The Men From Earth
by FallingStarXan
Summary: In 2017, the nations of Earth are being manipulated into war. The Doctor creates a group of people who are personified countries to simplify the task of promoting peace, but things soon get dangerously complicated. Feat. the World 8.
1. Draw a Circle

**AN: So, I very recently became obsessed with Hetalia (the history nerd rejoices!), and after seeing the movie Paint It, White... well, all I could think of was, _This needs a little more Doctor__ Who_. And then I had this idea.**

**I do not own Doctor Who, or Hetalia, but I do own this particular intersection of the two.**

The year was 2017, the time was the end of the world, and the Doctor was running.

And _fast_; his feet kept slipping on the waxy floors, his shoulders kept slamming into the sides of the hallways like a careening car as he dodged past soldiers and hurtled down the corridors of the captured battlestar.

"Sir!" shouted a man. He had some stripes on his shoulder, so this meant if the Doctor didn't listen to him, important people would get whiny. The Doctor skidded to a near stop.

"Have you got a spare moment?" the Doctor asked.

The man blinked. "Er, yes. I have to ask you to-"

"Well, I _haven't_," interrupted the Time Lord. "You see, Russia's got nukes pointed at Japan, France is threatening to bomb England and England wants to invade France, America's trying to arrange a coup in China so they don't have to pay their debt and god know what else has happened in the last-" He looked at his wrist. "-nineteen minutes? Maybe the Ukraine has decided to send millions of crates of bad eggs to Poland! Maybe Alaska has seceded from the union and Bristol Palin's declaring war on the bit of Russia she thinks she can see from her house! Who knows?" He laughed in a slightly hysterical way. "So I've got my hands a little bit full here!"

The stripy important man trembled. "Have you got a plan, sir?" he quavered. "Because gathering up all the UNIT troops and taking the battlestar like this, sir... well, that was all very dandy, sir, _and_ clever of you, but we're at wit's end and we can't seem to make any two countries agree on _anything_ unless it's a military alliance... Even inside each country all the parties are fighting. Earth's become a madhouse! There's nine billion angry people down there and no one country can seem to just... _hold it together _long enough for them to look up and see the-"

"... elephant in the room..." the Doctor finished. "Or, say, the great whopping spaceships hanging over the planet." His eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. "Do you want to hear something very secret..." He looked at the stripy man's shirt. There was a label. "... Commander Clay?"

Clay saluted. "Yessir!"

The Doctor grinned. "That's going to change." And then he pushed past the startled man and raced out of sight.

* * *

><p>The Proeliites fed off of war.<p>

That was their trade, food, and sport. Not their own war. Of course not. Centuries earlier they had discovered a secret that led to world peace, but instead of sharing it with everyone, they decided to have fun with the other worlds that hadn't figured it out yet.

This is why world peace is not always such a good thing, when it comes to the wrong people. The kind with starships.

Because _other_ people's war is _very_ profitable. People make weapons, they make rations, they get all worked up and distracted and that makes them very easy to exploit. The Proeliites knew all about war. Not that they were good at winning them. Conquering whole planets was for the people who wanted to get killed. But it was very easy to make planets conquer themselves, so to speak. That was where the profit lay.

So they found Earth. A planet with so many different people - and just plain so many of them - and it really took a very conservative use of bioweapons and neurotransmitters, and only a bit of backroom dealing and rumor-spreading, and soon the nations of the world were just itching to tear each other apart. Cultivated like genetically modified fruit fields, the masses of people were about to become masses of graves.

Nothing helps a butcher like having a heifer cut itself into steaks.

So they hung above the planet in a great eager swarm, hidden by their invisibility shields to the world's inhabitants, and all had been going to plan until a strange blue box had materialized on one of their battlestars.

* * *

><p>The Doctor ran with a purpose. His side ached, but he ignored it. He chased after the glimmer of hope that had flown in front of his eyes like an elusive faerie.<p>

"You there!" he shouted. "Stop what you're doing! It's not important anymore!" He was pointing to a woman in the green and red-beret'd outfit that all the soldiers here wore.

The soldier seemed star-struck at the sight of him. They all knew who he was. She saluted ever so smartly, precise as a clockwork doll. "Doctor, _sir!_"

"Can you do me a _personal_ favor... otijoJ? Sorry, what kind of name's that?"

Private Lolito turned pink. "Got dressed in a bit of a hurry, sir. The shirt's inside out. Name's Lolito, sir."

"Ah. Glad to hear it, Lolito, because what I said would have been a bit racist otherwise. Right, I need access to the census bureaus of any country that's got one. All their records! Get it up here!"

"Well... that's a rather large request, sir..."

"Oh, _come_ on," the Doctor protested. "Only several billion terabytes of data... and you've got a 6G network... just reroute it all to my TARDIS in blocks. She can process it... probably... And make sure the HGP samples are part of it! That's the most important thing!"

Lolito blinked, but didn't protest. "Yes, er, sir." She saluted a bit less smartly and watched the Doctor scamper away.

"I'll be in the birthing bay!" he shouted over his shoulder before the sliding door shut behind him. "_Allons_-_y_!"

The private frantically looked around for the nearest officer. She had heard so much about the mysterious Doctor, and felt that no matter how strange his orders, there would be no question as to whether they should be followed.

"Sir!" Lolito called frantically to the figure that had just entered the control room. "Captain Thompson! Sir! I've got orders from, er, the Doctor, sir..."

The captain gritted his teeth. Of course the Doctor would be ordering everyone about... The blasted E.T. ended up as the _de facto_ head of UNIT whenever he showed up, no matter the circumstances. "What does he want, Private? A bag of jelly babies, perhaps? Command codes to all our country's nukes?"

"Well, he's already got those," Lolito said without thinking, then shut up fast.

"_What_, then?" Thompson growled. "What does he need?"

"DNA, sir," said Lolito, shrugging at Thompson's blank look. "That is, all the Human Genome Project archives. All the census data. Everything. From every country."

The captain's mustache quivered as he tried to think of a reason not to do this. "But... but... we can't just hack all the national archives! That's impossible! The security is immense..." He realized that the private wasn't looking at him anymore, but behind him. He turned around on his heel and saw a screen flashing through windows that popped up and then vanished as fast as they came. _Access granted, access granted, accès accordé, accesso consentito, zugriff gewährt, access granted_...

The captain blanched, then went red. "I hate that man," he grumbled, but he saluted the screen. "Yes, _sir._"

* * *

><p>An unearthly siren sound filled the birthing bay as the TARDIS materialized. It was a large ship, and sometimes taking the lazy shortcut is the best.<p>

The birthing bay was empty of people - that is, until the Doctor stepped out. He looked around to examine the equipment available. Yes this was just right.

The walls were lined with pods the size of caskets, but they were in fact the exact opposite of caskets. Proeliites had done away with infancy and childhood and adolescence, because in their opinion that was a waste of time. They were by nature somewhat marsupial, but the birthing chambers had done away with all the nuisance of giving birth and keeping the child in the pouch until they were strong, and then keeping the child safe until they metamorphosed into adults.

Now, they just made new adults. That was quick and simple and non-sentimental. Sometimes, if they bothered, a Proeliite couple might implant some nice childhood memories in the fetus through the neural interface feed.

It was a far from perfect system for the children, but for the Doctor, it was _exactly_ what he needed. He had a bit of experience with chambers like these (there had been an accidental daughter once), and what he didn't know, he'd figure out as he went along. The Doctor was _good_ at that. Famous for it, in fact.

He thought, as he hurried through the maze of round chambers, looking for a set that hadn't been destroyed by the soldiers, that this was probably his craziest idea yet. But this was the time for crazy ideas. This was very nearly the end of human civilization. And the Doctor _liked_ the human civilization. _Homo sapiens_ was his favorite species.

And then the data began to stream into the TARDIS computer. The Doctor jumped as the interface drive in his coat pocket started to hum with power. That had been one of the trickiest parts of this whole operation. His thumb still hurt from when he'd jammed it trying to pull the interface out of the TARDIS console. If only he'd had an _actual_ screwdriver, he reflected, as he extricated the drive from his coat and flicked on its screen. "Now..." he said portentously.

It was a trait that carried over through all of his regenerations. The Doctor _really_ liked to say things portentously.

(Even when no one was listening.)

"Now..."

And he glanced up and saw unbroken glass, and green lights. He'd found a chamber room that was still functional. About twelve pods in all, arranged around a central control stand. The Doctor checked his interface. Yes, twelve would be more than enough for what he had right now. "So, here we are..." He clicked the interface into the panel and typed a string of commands into the screen. "Now, then, old girl... give me what you've got about these countries up until 2017... I want history. I want culture. I want speech patterns. Strengths, weaknesses... Clothes, even. _Everything_."

And then he pressed the button on the control stand. "Give them the memories," he said softly. "Give them the history. Make it a life to them. Make it a story."

Lights flickered on inside of the birthing pods. One, two, three... all the way to the eighth one. The Doctor checked his list. It looked like the eighth country had overloaded the system. _China_, he swore. _Too big_. So he was stuck with those first eight. For now, at least. And how long would the process take? He checked the signs on the pods.

_Estimated time to maturation... eight hours... eight hours five minutes, eight hours thirty minutes, nine hours, eight forty-five... _Nine was the most. So he could wait...

Oh, come on. Why wait? He had a time machine. Nine hours was whatever he wanted it to be.

The Doctor turned away from the panel, and headed for the chamber door. Before he left, he took one last look at the pods.

What had he done? This was going to be insane and stupid and bound to fail...

But there were red skies over planet Earth. _His_ planet Earth. Storm clouds would rain blood over blue and choke it out until there was nothing left. The Doctor's own planet had died, just like this, but Gallifrey wasn't his home anymore.

Earth was.

So _yes_, yes to the stupid plan, the plan that might save all humankind. Earth was all he had now. And all Earth had was him.

It was a very _simple_ stupid plan, when all the pieces were fitted together the right way. The Proeliites wanted to create chaos. Mistrust. Discord. Disharmony. They wanted all the people in all the countries to be so terrified of one another that they would lash out at each other. And how can you convince any one nation, which could have millions to billions of inhabitants, that the real threat was, ooh, _invisible monsters in the sky?_ Go door to door? Arrange a really biiiiig town hall meeting? Make a blog about it? Like that would ever work.

How could you convince all the countries of the world to get along? See that they weren't shadowy figures looming to snatch away resources? Understand that they're really all very alike? You can't ask millions of people something and expect one answer.

Only in here, you could. In nine hours you could. You could have the whole world (a lot of it, anyway) together in this ring of pods.

Contemplatively, the Doctor traced the shape with his finger. "Draw a circle... that's the Earth. Mad, isn't it?"

And then he was gone.

* * *

><p>In the soft lights of the birthing pods, shapes began to form. At first they were very small, but as time ticked by, they filled their allotted space. It would be hard to see through the fogged-up glass, but the shapes were becoming more and more defined, less like shapes and more like figures. The features on these figures appeared, and the synthetic threads of cloth stitched itself together over their bodies. Synapses began to fire and thoughts began to form. Memories. Personalities.<p>

At the seven and a half hour mark, there was a sudden shockwave through the room. There was the sound of shouting and gunfire from decks above. There was the echo of screams. There was silence.

There was a long, terrible silence.

At the eight hour mark, a pair of brown eyes opened wide.

A hand pressed itself against glassy plastic. Then it became a set of knuckles, tentatively rapping on the hard surface from within. It made a hollow _klock klock klock_ sound that reverberated in the chamber. And then came a squeaky, fearful, tremulous voice. It had an Italian accent.

"Veh... could somebody please let me out?"


	2. Hell Is This Place

Italy awoke inside of a tall glass box.

He couldn't remember what had got him there. Hadn't he gone to sleep in his own bed the night before?

He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't feel anything. He couldn't _anything_ anything. His skin felt numb and strange and even his nose seemed not to be working properly. And Italy had a very good nose, at least for things like pasta.

Pasta was good...

At the thought of pasta, he realized how hungry he was. And when he thought about his hunger, he found that he was thirsty too. And once he realized _that_, he realized that he was very, _very_ scared.

"Veh...?" He put his hand on the wall in front of him (the glass wall was closer than he expected, and this freaked him out), then knocked lightly. "Could somebody please let me out?"

Nothing responded. Italy banged a little harder. "Is anyone there? _Is anyone there?_ Let me-" The misty space felt like it was shrinking over him.

He took a breath, then kicked the wall. "LEMMEOUT!" Italy screamed, pounding the glass with his fists. "Help! Help! I don't like it! I don't like it! Please, someone, get me out!" What if he ran out of air? And wouldn't he run out of air faster screaming like this?

This thought made him scream louder. "_Let me out! I can't get out! I'm running out of air screaming like this so get me out! _HELP!" In his panic, he could think of only one thing to do. "_GERMANY!_" he shrieked. "HELP ME, GERMANY! HELP MEEEE!"

He heard the sound of a loud but muffled grunt, and a ringing, crystalline crash. A second later the door swung back so suddenly that Italy squeaked in terror. Then he saw the short blond hair and tall, husky frame, and he giggled a little, fear vanishing like a soap bubble.

"Oh. Hehe. There you are. Veh, I knew you were out there somewhere, Germany," Italy chirped. "Are you okay? You look pretty angry..."

The other nation snorted and pulled Italy out of his pod. "Do you know vhere ve are?" he demanded, declining to point out that extreme worry could often be mistaken for anger on him.

"Oooh!" Italy exclaimed. "Look at that!" He pointed at a pod across the way, one whose glass front had completely shattered, the pieces sprayed all the way across the round room.

"Yes, I know," said Germany irritably. "I did it. Never mind zat. Again, do you have any idea vhere ve are?" But he had a feeling that this was a hopeless line of questioning. Who could possibly expect the bubble-headed Italy to have any of the answers?

Or expect him to stay in one place? Germany reached out a hand and grabbed the back of Italy's shirt, which, along with its owner, was currently drifting towards the exit. "_Italy_," he growled. "Zere could be _anyvone_ out zere. Stay close und don't even _zhink_ about running avay."

"But I just wanted to see if there was anything to eat! I'm _hungry_." Italy had never really grasped the idea of an indoor voice. So his squeaky outdoor voice reverberated throughout the room, and Germany angrily slapped a hand over the other nation's mouth.

"Be _qviet!_" Germany looked around wildly and put a hand on his belt, instinctively searching for a pistol. There _was_ a holster on his hip, but it was empty. "_Verdamnt!_ Nozzing!"

A quiet, reasonable voice came from behind them. "Do you really think that you would still have any weapons? Whoever put us in these boxes would not risk leaving us armed."

Both Italy and Germany spun around. "Japan!" exclaimed Italy happily. "I'm so glad to see y- mmfff..."

"How on Earth did you get out of your-?" Germany asked, a bit astonished.

Japan sighed, looking like he wanted to cover his eyes. "I simply assessed the situation. There are levers on the inside of each door that allow the occupant egress. If you had looked harder, you might have found them, too."

"Oh," said Germany.

"Oh," said Italy. Then he laughed. "So you didn't have to bust out of your thingy, then, huh, Germany?"

"Shut up," Germany hissed, looking embarrassed. "It vas _you_ who started screaming like a pig on a butcher's table-"

"And you know all about pigs in butcher shops, don't you, Germany?" Italy said cheerfully. "That's all you ever eat, even though pasta is so much better and-" He didn't get to finish that sentence either, because there was more muffled thumping from another of the pods.

"Oh, bloody hell," its occupant swore. "What the hell is this thing? Who did this? Let me out of here this instant!" The shape in the fog shifted and its hands pushed up against the glass.

Italy perked up even more. "Hey! That sounded like Britain! Veh, do you think the others are here too?"

"Out!" Britain demanded crossly. "Is anybody _listening_ to me?"

Germany took two giant strides and slapped his hand on the button by the pod, then pulled the front face open, revealing a man with spiky yellow hair, a green uniform, and thick eyebrows, which had formed a very annoyed 'V' on his forehead. "I say, this is rather unkind of whoever-" He halted, seeing the other three nations. "Oh, hello, old chaps," he said, a bit nervously. "Is it just us, then?"

He clearly was thinking of the last time in history when those particular three countries were working together. And his memories were very fuzzy and mixed up, so he wasn't sure if that was still the present or if it was in the past.

Cue the banging on two more glass doors. "Let me out of here, aru!" exclaimed a voice with an Asian intonation.

Britain leaned out of his pod and looked off to his left. "China?" he asked. "Is that you in there?"

"You can get out with the little lever thing inside the door," Italy called helpfully.

The voice was a bit frantic. "What lever? I can't see any lever!"

"On the lower right side of the door," Japan clarified. "It should be there."

"I'm not used to being confined to such a small surface area!" China was griping. "Except for in my coastal cities, of course... but that is most certainly not all of me!"

"Let me get it," Britain said quickly, stepping down. He took a few steps towards China's pod and then had to jump back as the wall of the pod between them exploded off and a figure leaped through the debris.

"Never fear!" the newcomer yelled. "I'm here to save you all with my super-awesomeness! The hero is-"

Britain struggled to his feet, but slipped on glass. "America! You blasted moron! You nearly killed me!" He felt even more annoyed because if it hadn't been for this, he might have actually been happy to see him.

America swiveled, caught sight of Britain, and his face lit up. "Oh, hey there, Britain! Whatcha doing on the floor? Here, I'll get you up!"

"Don't need your bloody help," Britain mumbled, turning beet red as the other nation hoisted him off the ground easily and dusted off his hands. Behind them, Japan was quietly opening the door to China's pod. "There _was_ a lever, you know. You didn't have to blow that door off."

"Aw, who needs levers? They're for losers." The blue-eyed, bespectacled America cracked his knuckles. "That was _awesome!_"

Still shaking off shock, Britain ground his teeth. "You're an imbecile."

"And listen to zat! For once words of wisdom escape Monseigneur Britain's lips. Zis eez a cause for celebration, no?"

Britain twisted on the spot. "Oh, very amusing, France. Why don't you stop croaking like the frog you are and focus on what's important!"

And as France thought up a biting bit of _repartee_ to respond with, another voice joined the hubbub.

"I wake up inside glass box. I have headache from vodka last night. Why is there so much talking going on out here? Please do not be so loud." Russia waited for the other countries to quiet down.

They didn't. Germany was raging at the bickering France and England, trying to get them to shut up. America and Italy seemed to be trying to outdo each other in overexcitement and shrillness.

Russia sighed. "I would perhaps like to get back inside box now."

Nearby, Germany was trying to grab hold of both of the quarreling nations, but they were surprisingly agile, and did not seem to notice him. "You _dummkopfs! _Ve're trying to be qviet!"

"Yeah, well, what about that time you-"

"Zat was hundreds of years ago, and eet was you who-"

Japan sidled up to Germany and patted his arm urgently. "Germany-san! I cannot find Itary-san anywhere! I think he may have wandered off!"

Immediately Germany turned away from the other European nations and swore. "Zat fool! Vhere could he have gone?"

* * *

><p>Italy was humming to himself as he tiptoed down the corridor. He sniffed the air again. There had been the faint aroma of food coming from this direction. His stomach was rumbling. It sounded just like Germany did when he was trying not to punch someone in the teeth. And, like with an angry Germany, Italy obeyed his growling stomach without question.<p>

"Pasta, pasta, pasta is so yummy..." They weren't the most original of lyrics, but he wasn't exactly the most eloquent of nations. His voice was good, though. Italy had an artistic soul.

"Pasta pasta... Huh...?" Italy trotted through a door, and immediately a far stronger scent hit him. It wasn't a nice one. It was very metallic, like the way his hands smelt after holding cutlery for a long time (this was a common occurrence for him). He stepped towards the door where the nasty smell was strongest, curious. It sensed him and swished open.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure zat he's gone?" Germany demanded. "Sometimes he gets lost in large groups of people..."<p>

"Can you hear him?" asked Japan skeptically.

"Good point," Germany conceded. But he was still very angry. "He is not here. I zhink I vill go after him und teach him not to vander off like zat."

Mildly alarmed, Japan's eyes went wide. "Try not to hurt him too much, Germany-san," he said worriedly, then rubbed his ears. "If only these nations would stop talking so much. We are giving away where we are."

And right then, there was a long, drawn-out scream. "_EEEEE! GERMANY! There are dead bodies here, Germanyyyy!_" and Italy came whizzing back into the room to hide behind his ally's legs, quivering.

Every voice shut off. Every nation froze in their motions. And at last, there was silence.


	3. Which Is Full of Bodies

The broad doors of the bay ponderously slid open to reveal the nations huddled together in an impromptu battle formation that was rather cubic. Only _rather _cubic, though. Germany and China were in the lead because they were the only ones that weren't actively trying to be in the back. The rest was a rustling, shifting mass. There was America trying very hard to be in the back because this whole thing smelled of ghosts to him. Britain and Japan were both wielding sharp shards of broken glass with handkerchiefs as hilts. It had seemed a good idea at the time but now it was all they could do to keep from accidentally slicing or stabbing any of the others. From somewhere in the middle of the crush, Italy was brandishing Germany's arm as if it was his weapon and not technically somebody else's.

"I don't see why we're so worked up about this, aru," China complained snippily. "There is nothing to be afraid of from dead bodies. It's not as though they can attack us."

"It is not the bodies, China-san, that I am afraid of. It is whatever caused them to die. This place feels like a house of evil spirits to me." Japan shuddered. "It makes me think there is a _yurei_ here. An angry ghost."

"_Ghosts?_" America squealed. His fears had been confirmed. "You mean there's _ghosts_ here?"

There was a low murmur that sounded exactly like seven people saying the words "shut up" under their breaths at the same time. Britain nudged Japan and gave him a look that said, _well now you've done it_, and had undertones of, _if he does something dumb because of this I'm blaming you_.

They edged their way down the corridor, starting off at a tortoise-like crawl but moving a bit faster towards the end as nothing dangerous leaped out at them. Italy led by steering Germany in the correct direction (much to the nation's irritation), because there was no power in the heavens or on Earth that could ever make him be in the front of a battle formation. It was like trying to make a stone float.

Being in the safest spot, Italy soon cheered up slightly, which made all the other nations a bit resentful since they were essentially acting as meat-shields. Italy would urge them on with little chirps of, "That way, that way!" and this was annoying. Everything about Italy was annoying, in fact. But then, all the countries found one another irritating in some way or another. Which was why the only thing that could keep them huddled together was dead bodies, and lots of 'em.

There were lots of dead bodies.

"_Mein gott!_" muttered Germany. Even he looked unnerved, but only that. Most of the nations had, at one point or another, got around to slaughtering at least thousands of people, but most of them also never had to admit what they'd done, pretended it never happened if they liked, so now they could all turn green at this carnage like the hypocrites they were. But not Germany.

Russia also seemed unperturbed but that was because he was, well, Russia. The kindest way to put it would be that he just didn't understand what all the fuss was about.

"Oh, man! That's horrible!" America was trying to squeeze his head into the crowded doorframe to get a closer look. "I've never seen this many dead people except in video games! It's, like, so much worse when it's real, isn't it?" He still looked and sounded like a tourist trying to get a glimpse of a really interesting foreign object, and maybe take a picture as well.

"Rubbernecking," France said not-so-quietly. He sniffed. "As usual. Zis kind of zhing eez far too vulgar for my delicate senses."

"I believe I know where we are, aru," said China quickly, before an argument could start. "These are soldiers, so we must be in some kind of military installation. And since they _are_ all dead, there is probably a war going on right now."

"Yes, but whose war is it?" demanded Britain. "It certainly isn't... mine..." He trailed off. Britain had been in the back the whole time, edging through the group, trying to see. And as the huddle shifted, he had his first clear view of the bodies. His green eyes went wide and then he was shoving the nations in front of him out of the way, and they parted, startled by his sudden frantic movement. No one had ever seen Britain this upset over something.

America was one of the shoved. "Hey! Watch it! What's the matter with you?" He tripped backwards on one leg and managed to right himself before he fell. "That was not cool!"

But Britain ignored this and rushed into the room, then knelt by the nearest dead soldier. He seemed at an utter loss for words.

"Vhat do you zhink is _bozzering_ him so much?" hissed Germany to Japan, who gave a sort of noncommittal shrug.

"Perhaps he recognized them," he suggested. "Perhaps they are his."

"But he just said zat he vas not at var vith anyvone-"

" 'e could have been _lying_," said France very pointedly.

China looked skeptical. "You think he would lie and then go and act like that and give himself away? Don't be absurd."

Determined to make the worst light of it, France said, "Well, 'e could have been lying _badly_, then..."

"I agree with France," Russia told them serenely. "I think it is all Britain's fault."

"Seconded!" called America. Then he frowned. "Hey... wait! I don't want to agree with _him_..."

"_I'm_ not the one responsible for all this!" Britain suddenly shouted, rounding on the group. "You just want to blame somebody! Well, it won't be me-"

"Those _are _British uniforms," Japan pointed out. "I recognize the red hats..."

America clapped a companionable hand on Japan's shoulder (who shuddered). "Yeah! That's exactly what I was going to say! Only you said it first."

"Oh, like you'd know a uniform from a dressing gown," said Britain viciously, who felt an almost disproportionate sense of betrayal. "Well, if you're so clever then tell me why I would lock myself up in one of those pods along with the rest of you!"

"Perhaps eet was a ruse," France said gleefully. "You were trying to make us zhink you were innocent."

"I tell you, I had nothing to do with this! But I have an idea of what did! Only I'm not telling any of you, since you're all being such... utter... _wankers!_"

China huffed. "Well, if you're going to be like that..."

"Yeah, so who d'you think it was?" scoffed America. "Was it the Flying Mint Bunny?"

"Maybe!" yelled Britain defensively. "Maybe it was!" And he went red in the face as the countries jeered at him. _If only it _had _been me_, he thought angrily. _I'd show those beasts a lesson or two._

From somewhere in the huddle of accusatory figures, Italy managed to make himself heard. His voice was the kind that never got buried in a crowd, which made it irritating most of the time but occasionally quite useful. "Come on, you guys! Please-a don't fight! We can be reasonable, right? Can't weee?"

He sounded so gratingly optimistic and hopeful that Germany almost turned around and punched him. And Germany wasn't the only one. But now, since everyone was looking at Italy, the shouting _did_ stop, and the anger _did_ begin to dissipate, or become redirected in some cases.

"_Italy_..." Germany began dangerously, then stopped and tried to get a handle on himself. "You are young and naive," he said finally, stiffly, trying to keep his fists at his sides. "Zis is a matter of-"

"Not much younger than _you_ are," Italy said brightly.

Germany stopped, because it was one of the first times he'd heard Italy say something intelligent. But, when he thought about it, it was actually true, as far as he could remember. In fact, Italy might be older than him. But he didn't act it, so it didn't count. It _didn't_.

"Veh..." Italy seemed to be gathering his thoughts. "I think that even if those guys over there are from Britain, they weren't the ones who put us in the glass thingies." His forehead wrinkled. "They all look so dead and so someone must have killed them a little while ago but then... why were we still in the boxes after these guys got dead? If they put us there, I mean. And if someone who didn't like them got here not too long ago why didn't they let us out?" He looked very pleased with this summation. "Veh, I think those guys are good guys too!"

The nations stared at one another, and then tried not to meet each other's eyes. It was embarrassing that it was Italy who pointed out all that, and even more embarrassing that it had actually been clever. It wasn't Italy's job to be clever. But then, he was _very_ good at avoiding conflicts. Maybe this newfound skill - reason - was an extension of this talent.

... did that mean that all conflicts were unreasonable, then?

Then they all mentally shook themselves and returned to the present. There were nods, words of agreement, and even some murmured apologies.

And America did something none of them had ever seen him do before: he took his glasses off and slowly wiped them on his shirt. It wasn't as though it was so odd. It just... never happened before. It didn't seem normal. His naked blue eyes blinked over and over like he had just woken up.

All of them felt very strange, as though they'd been pulled to a halt from a downward fall. Italy's conclusion made sense, now that they thought about it, and it was odd how quickly they'd ganged up on Britain, of all nations. He was a bit rude and pompous sometimes but never as bad as some of the others could be.

"So who was it that put us in the boxes if it wasn't these soldiers?" Japan said. "And what do they want?" The nations had started to cautiously pick their way through the bodies. Nearly all of the corpses were wearing military dress, and most of them had their red berets with insignias that identified them as, if not British, at least pretending to be. Some were from the Royal Military Police, others from the army, others from the navy. It looked like a slapdash strike force assembled out of whatever military types someone could get their hands on.

China pointed at Japan in acknowledgement, then at Britain. "But Britain knows something, though, aru. He said that he had an idea-"

"He said it was the _Flying Mint Bunny_," America reminded them.

"You're the one who keeps an alien in his-"

America looked ready to burst with righteous indignation. "Hey! He's not an alien! Tony's my buddy! Why do you always have to say mean things about everyone!"

"He's an _alien_ because he's not from planet _Earth!_" Britain snapped. "That's what _alien_ means."

"Oh," America said. "I thought it meant Mexican."

Japan coughed a little. "And that's insulting, to say someone is from Mexico?"

"What? No! I've... I've got nothing against them! Some of my best gardeners are Mexican!"

"Why don't we let Britain tell us what he zhinks eez going on?" France sighed. "I am growing weary of all zis back and forth and back..."

More than one pair of eyes rolled to the ceiling. "You're telling _us?_" asked China.

"Or maybe we should listen to me!" America exclaimed. "We've wasted enough time listening to other people. Obviously my ideas are going to be so much better, so all you people stop talking and do what I say. I think we should all-"

"_Somevone stop him before I do_," growled Germany. His eyebrow was twitching.

"I will," Russia said placidly. He walked up to America and gave him a light slap on the cheek. "There we go. All good now." Then he ambled back to his place in the back of the group.

"Wha?" said America. He touched his face. "Why'd you do that?"

"We could listen to Itary-san," Japan suggested, because another fight right now would be _really_ all they needed. "Right now he seems to have a... a..."

"Clarity of purpose," encouraged France.

"... yes, that none of the rest of us do."

So they all looked at Italy.

"I'm hungry," said Italy. "I smell pasta." He grinned.

"So there goes one lead, aru," muttered China. "Oh, well."

"You _could _ask me," Britain said finally. "I might even tell you."

Grudgingly the other nations turned and faced him. "All right," said Germany. "Tell us vhat you know."

"These soldiers _are_ from my country, but they aren't under my command," Britain said flatly. "They're part of a separate organization called UNIT. The United Nations Intelligence Taskforce."

"Hold on," said Russia. "How come if they're part of the UN only you've heard of them...?"

"Never mind that! If _they're_ here, and they're all _dead_... that means something _very_ peculiar is going-"

Out of nowhere there was a shout, and it sounded like America. "Come on over here, you guys! _This is wicked awesome!_"

"... on," Britain finished, and then sprinted away to where America's voice had come from. He leapt through a doorframe, made to sharp lefts and a right, and then found himself sliding uncontrollably into the railing of a corridor. What he saw before him was smooth, curving glass, and a drop right in front of him. He could see now that the rooms they had been in were the penultimate level of a tall structure that was encased in a transparent dome, like the stalk of a giant (and see-through) toadstool. And through the glass he saw blackness.

Except for the huge blue and green light in the middle of the view. It was _enormous_, on a scale that he could somehow never have imagined. He'd always seen it as such a small thing. In his memories it was condensed into something incredibly simple, flat, geometric.

But it was so much more than that. It was a planet. It was Earth.

As the other nations came charging up behind, America said, "Wow."

"Wow," Britain agreed numbly.

"This is a _spaceship_," America continued.

"Yes," said Britain. "An alien spaceship."

"Really?" asked America, interested. "Do you think they have burritos, then? I'm _starving_."


	4. And the Hero Is

"Ve need to have a proper plan," Germany declared, once he'd caught up with Britain and the rest of them. "Zere must be some form of protocol for vhat to do in such circumstances as zese. Assume ve vere captured by an enemy und held hostage. Vhat vould ve do?"

"Make them food!" Italy said perkily. "And give them all of our stuff!"

"_Ja_," sighed Germany, who was quite familiar with this strategy Italy had. "Zat is vhat _you_ do. Is zere anyvone else?"

"We don't even _have_ any stuff to give away, aru," China pointed out. "And we don't have any food, either."

Britain was standing next to China as he spoke. "Oh. You can't just manufacture cheap plastic rubbish to give them, then?"

China folded his arms and looked haughty. "Not until America pays back what he owes me."

"Aw, come on!" America had crept up behind them somehow. "I need that cheap plastic rubbish for my Happy Meals!"

"Which part?" asked Britain. "The toys or the food?"

"Fine," said China. "I'll write up another contract when we get out of here."

"Is this _really_ the time to be _borrowing money_, America? When we're on a sodding _spaceship?_"

America turned to Britain with his usual vacant smile turned way up. "Don't worry, bro! I'm sure we'll get out of this somehow! These Mexicalien dudes are totally not a match for us! Right, guys?"

"They're not _Mexic_-" Britain started to say.

"I'm very sorry to interrupt," said Japan, "But I have to ask: what is that strange, unearthly noise?"

A pause in the conversation, that was filled by the humming of unseen engines and... nothing else.

All the nations turned to one another, and one by one they shook their heads. "What do you mean by, 'a strange unearthly noise'?" asked France. "... which kind would zat be, again?"

"I heard nothing also," said Russia. "You are just imagining things."

"No," Japan insisted. "It was there, I heard it. It was like a siren or the sound of wind in trees. I cannot explain it correctly."

Still more shaking heads. "Are you _sure?_" asked China.

"It sounded... the way a ghost might sound, I suppose," Japan went on, unwisely. "I am not sure. But I know it was there."

"_You heard a ghost?_"

Then came the required: "... _shut up_..."

China looked very peeved. He'd been about to make another loan and now America was all distracted and pale. "How is it, Japan, that you seem _entirely incapable_ of describing _anything_ about this place without using the 'g' word around America, aru?"

"I don't _believe _in ghosts," Japan insisted. "They are imaginary. I just thought that the noise _sounded_ like one."

"Hey guys... _guys_... GUYS let's go back to that room we all woke up in because I _really_ don't think it's safe out heeerreee..." America was subtly turning all shades of fear, from ashen white to slight, oxygen-missing blue to lichen green to white again.

"I have a question," said Britain, irritably. "Why the bloody hell are you so terrified of ghosts? I think it's a reasonable question, actually..."

"I heard the noise, too," America was gabbling. "I heard it. Oh, man, I really did, but I thought I'd imagined it..."

"No, you didn't," snapped Britain. "You're only _saying_ that because you don't want to look stupid for getting scared over something that _someone_ _else_ _might have heard_."

Then Russia tapped on both of their shoulders. "Just out of curiosity, did you hear _that?_"

Everyone did.

It was the sound of footsteps. It was the sound of voices, funneled through the corridor and echoing in very curious ways in the odd, dense walls. But it didn't sound like human voices, even though they seemed to be speaking in a human tongue.

"Intruders detected," the voices were saying, laying over one another like gelatinous waves washing up on a slimy shoreline. "Intruders detected. Yes, yes, intruders..."

Then a sharper voice echoing in a crisper, clearer way. "_Intruder detected._"

A second later, the crack of a gun.

And the voice said, "_Intruder neutralized_." The footsteps continued.

The nations all blanched. Italy was clinging to Germany's arm as if he wanted to somehow crawl inside it and hide.

"We should probably run," America whispered. "We should probably run right about _now_."

"I agree," said Britain, in as controlled a manner as he could muster. He had begun to back away, and pulled America along with him. "Does anyone else agree with America here? By any chance? Yes?"

There were swallows and nods and the other nations began to step away from the advancing footsteps, quicker and quicker. They weren't exactly retreating yet, as there hadn't been enough definitive movement for it to be called as such. It was just a reorganizing in a particular direction.

"I vill not run avay from zese people, whoever zey are," said Germany, though he looked so loose-limbed and irresolute compared to usual. But he stood his ground. "None of us should be running."

But the other nations had really begun to retreat now, hissing to Germany to follow, come along old chap, don't be a fool - but never suggesting that they should wait for him.

"Ve are powerful nations," said Germany, beginning to sound angry, because he could see that all the others were giving him up for lost already. "Ve are not _cowards!_"

"Except me," squeaked Italy, at his side. "Remember? Lessa go now, okay? I don't think those guys coming this way are very nice." He gave Germany a stare that a frightened pet shop puppy would have been jealous of. It was all giant wobbly brown eyes and shivers, and his odd curl of hair seemed to go limp.

Normally Germany would have fought it a bit, but the footsteps were growing louder and closer and there was the image of all those bodies, and no one had even seen it shocking not to clear them away...

"Please-" Italy began to say. It occurred to Germany that Italy could have taken off at any time, like the others. And yes, he had a ridiculous mental complex that made him think that wherever Germany was would be safest. But he also never missed up a chance to retreat. Whether in skiving duties or escaping enemy battalions, he'd honed the very act to an art form. And yet here he was.

That was enough. That and the shadow that had appeared on the end of the curving hallway that was cast by whatever was making the footsteps. It did not look like a human's shadow.

"You zhink ve should run avay?" Germany asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"Yep," said Italy.

"So do I," Germany told him, and then the next second they had both turned on their heel and raced after the rest of the nations.

It wasn't the kind of running of someone trying simply to move fast, or of someone trying to reach a endpoint or escape another. It was furtive, silent running, the kind from nightmares where you know something is looking for you and _will_ find you, but you just keep running anyway, until you wake up.

At this silent, furtive pace, Italy and Germany weaved through the halls and reached the main contingent as Britain was ducking his head into a corridor whose lights had all been punctured by bullets. "I don't know where we're _going_," he hissed. "Bloody ship all looks the same everywhere. Oh. There you are. Hallo, Germany, Italy."

"Yeah, we were just thinking, 'Hey, we should probably go back and get those guys'. Weren't we just thinking that?" America nudged Japan and China simultaneously, since they were the closest. "Weren't we?"

_No, you weren't_, thought Germany.

_Of course they were,_ thought Italy. _Aren't they nice?_

In the slightly less exposed gloom of the secondary hallway, Japan asked, "Did you see them?" There was no question about whom he was referring to.

Germany shook his head. "_Nein_. Only zheir shadows."

"And what were the _shadows_ like?" said China.

"I... cannot say," Germany muttered. "It vas probably a trick of zer light."

"_SO_," America whispered loudly. He waved his hands at the others in a frantic attempt to secure their attention. "Were they like _THAT?_" And he pointed.

Advancing along the wall of the T-junction at the end of the corridor, many steps ahead of their owners, were a pair of silhouettes. One was thinner and one was hulking, but both were broad-shouldered, and slightly hunched forward, head jutting out. And it looked like something (or a small set of things) hung from at least one of their mouths. It could have been an oddly cut beard, but it probably _wasn't_, because it moved on its own, unless it was a beard home to some very persistent vermin. And the bits of it _clacked_ and they _snicked_ and they _wiggled_ most horribly, like they were tasting the air.

The terrified nations flattened themselves against the wall, and edged back the way they came, trying not to let their boots squeak on the rubbery floor. As soon as the light increased at the end of the hall they began to run.

Shadows moved after them.

As the nations went from floor to floor, the clean white walls became bare gray, with exposed, painted-over supports and pipes, like the inside of an old battleship. The muffled tread of shoes on polymer porcelain turned into the _clangggclangclang_ from thin metal floors, and oily smells emanated from the walls.

Short, maze-like, space-filling halls doorframes that tripped you if you stepped too low and knocked your head if you didn't duck. At this point none of the nations had any idea if they were being followed, but didn't want to stop to find out.

Until there was a shout of, "Up this vay! Zey're coming from below!" from Germany, and a couple of the other nations skidded and did double-takes because through the grille floor they could see _movement_. They all fought to reach the ladder first, and halfway up Britain yelled a foul curse as someone someone's boot landed on his hand.

Now the halls were back to clean and wide, though they hadn't shaken off the gray color. But here, it was even darker than in the lower decks. The sloping windows along the walls didn't help - all they showed was black. When the countries' eyes adjusted the room also revealed itself to be very large and high-ceilinged, and filled with improbably tall, spindly columns of boxes.

"A storage bay?" France suggested, as he slowed to catch his breath.

"If it is, do you zhink ve could find veapons here?"

France considered Germany's question. He squinted through the dark at the disorganized mass of containers. "It would take, ah, _several years_, but I suppose so, yes." He wanted to sit down very badly, because all this running around was extremely exhausting, but he knew all the snide things Britain could find to say about him if he did.

"Quiet please for one second," Russia said cautiously. "Did anybody hear that?"

The last whisper of noise vanished.

"Nope," said America. "Nothing at all. What's your deal?"

Japan's quiet voice rose out of the gloom. "Was it the same thing as I heard, Russia-san?"

"I do not know... it was like wind in the snowdrifts... like the sound of a train whistle from miles and miles away..." He looked dreamily distant. "Good sounds. Russian sounds. It reminds me of-"

"Sshh!" hissed Britain. "Something's in here!"

The cluster battle formation began to coalesce once more, with the nations hitting up against each others backs. There was a very tall, indistinct shadow on the wall. And then there was a _clicking _and _snicking_ and chittering and heavy feet on the floor.

America felt he should less frightened than he was because these things were probably solid and alive (hence non-ghosts), and he still hadn't quite grasped the idea of 'aliens'. But instead of giving him the usual invulnerable feeling that not knowing something tended to give him, it instead introduced him to a phrase he hadn't used since the Cold War, which was: 'nameless dread'.

More shadows. More clicking.

"They're all around us!" he yelped. "God, this is so _scary!_ I don't even know why! It's like... they've got us surrounded and we don't even know what they _look like!_ Does anyone else find that scary? Why is that scary? Guys? _Guys?_ Are you there-?"

His back thumped up against wood. He'd hit into one of the stacks of crates. Now his fear of the things in the dark was overridden by a fear of a box way at the top tumbling down onto his head, or having the whole thing collapse like a felled tree. When he backed away from it (hastily) he saw that the whole structure was wobbling and vibrating, and his blood turned into ice water. America stood there, unable to move away, shivering and watching the tower shiver with him.

He kept shivering, and it kept shivering, more and more ominously, until it suddenly and violently snapped back into shape.

It startled him, and he jumped backwards, but immediately landed against another uneven surface that moved, and collapsed over backwards with him.

"OW! Bloody hell! Who's there?"

America tried to say something, but his nerves were still jangling from the fall, and when he realized who he'd collided with, he felt a wave of goosebumps travel over his skin. "Ulp," he managed, and not very loudly.

"Clumsy _arse_... Who's there?" Britain repeated at a whisper. "America? Is that you?"

"Uh. I didn't see you," said America, by way of an apology. "It's like it's gotten darker or something." Feeling very embarrassed, he struggled to get to his feet. Maybe if he moved fast enough he could escape Britain's anger, which was bound to be coming.

But a hand moved like a snake, grabbed the scruff of his aviator jacket, and hauled him back down. "Hey!" he started to yell, until a hand slapped over his mouth.

"Shut up, you damn fool, they'll hear us," Britain snarled into his ear. "And don't go running off. No more splitting up. We need to find the others, now."

"MRPF."

"All _right_, I'll let you go. Just don't talk so loud."

America made an attempt at lowering his voice. "Well, you didn't have to grab me like that."

"Just. Don't. Leave me," said Britain, through clenched teeth, and it immediately became evident how terrified he was.

"I won't," said America quickly, trying to sound reassuring, though he was mostly reassuring himself. "Hero is me," he mumbled. "Not going anywhere."

"America? Britain?" It was France's voice. "Where are you?"

"_Here!_" they both whispered, as loudly as they dared.

They heard Germany whisper, "Italy...?" from a little ways off.

"Veh?"

"Itary-san? Can you hear me?"

"Japan?" asked China.

"China?" asked Russia. "Where are you?"

"Go away, Russia," China snapped. "Oh, fine. Aru. Yes, I'm here."

And then a very loud, close _clickclickclick_.

"So are _they_," said Britain, with flat calm. "They're right here."

Beside him, America looked ready to scream. Britain turned to silence him again, except he realized... he'd _seen_ him. Just for a moment.

"What was that light?" he asked slowly.

"What light?" America wrinkled his forehead. "I didn't see any-"

"There! Right there! It got lighter..."

... and it faded. Blackness once more.

But then there was another pulse, and it was enough to see all the other nations by. The walls were suddenly lit up by huge shadows, but they were retreating. Britain got to his feet and pulled America up with him, wondering if he dared think it possible...

"Do you hear that-?" America began. But it was silly, because _everyone_ did. It was loud and shrill, and like a siren or a train whistle through the miles of snow, or like a ghost screeching its way out of the astral plane and into _our_ plane...

"_NO_," said Britain. Utter disbelief oozed from the single syllable of denial. "It _can't _be..."

It was getting louder and louder by degrees with every pulse, and the light becoming brighter and brighter so the periods of darkness that followed seemed blacker and blacker... and then there was a final _shunk_ and the squeak of a door opening.

"_Right _then, you lot!" cried a strange voice, and the room took the call and multiplied it into a thousand, a million other echoes. "Think you can frighten people, eh? Murder them in cold blood? Think you're _scary_, do you? The scariest things in the room? Well, let's see what you make of _this!_"

And the lights came slamming back on and before he covered his eyes in reflex to the sudden brightness an image had been imprinted squarely in Britain's retina.

There was a man, and there was a blue police box.

And Britain shouted aloud, "_Doctor!_"


	5. More Than a Man

**AN: Well, here we are again. It's always such a pleasure... no, sorry, that's Portal 2. Anyways, here's the next chapter. Please R&R if you liked it - it really helps and I won't deny that it makes me feel good.**

The Doctor held up the sonic screwdriver and hoped to Gallifrey that the Proeliite webs were as sensitive to sound as those of their nearby stellar neighbors, the Racnoss. And that the room was big enough to hold enough spooled out sensor thread silk for the blast to be concussive...

"Right, then, you lot!" he shouted. "Think you can frighten people, eh? Murder them in cold blood?" Not even like how they'd killed the UNIT soldiers, who had probably fought back - like fools, the Doctor thought. He'd told them before to abandon ship if things got too ugly. But many must have stayed, died to protect his project in the birthing bay. He'd _told_ them not to make it into a war... but the Proeliites had ways of undoing all that. It was their trade. "Think you're _scary_, do you? The scariest things in the room?" _Because you're not_, thought the Doctor.

_I am._

"Let's see what you make of _this!_" And he sonicked the lights up to full power, then swept his arm down in a great arc, pushing the setting of the screwdriver to its utter maximum.

Far below, he heard someone shout his name.

Suddenly all the giant, spindly stacks of boxes were vibrating like guitar strings to the whine of the sonic screwdriver, which was being amplified by the size of the huge bay. This would only ever work in a place like this - near-perfect acoustics created by the shape of the ceiling and the material that made up the outer hull of the ship. And so many sensor strings around. The Doctor heard the screeching wails of the Proeliites, and thudding feet, and doors slamming shut.

He released his finger from the screwdriver button and let the echoes die away. Then the Doctor looked at the floor level of the bay closely for the first time. He could see a group of young men all huddled together, many just taking their hands away from their ears.

"Well, hallo, there!" he called down to them. "Look at all you chaps... oh, don't worry, everything's safe for now. Those drones won't be able to think straight for a few hours at least. Shake up their sensor silk web a bit, and their heads start ringing like church bells on Easter Sunday. Shame there's probably a lot more of them, though... ah, well, look on the bright side, eh? Eh?" He hopped and twirled down a spiral staircase to their level. "Because, well, _here you are_," said the Doctor, with great pomp and ceremony. "Look at _you_... oh, just _look_ at you!"

Eight nations of Earth. All of them had one body and two legs and two eyes and one heart and a brain that was thinking like one human person... But each one wasn't a _person_ at all, but a _people_.

One of them, a blond with thick brows wearing a green uniform, was half-kneeling on the floor, rubbing his bright emerald eyes. His expression as he stared at the Doctor was the same one all the UNIT soldiers kept wearing around him. Wonder.

"You're... _him_," said the young man, his voice just barely lilting with the melody of Received Pronunciation. "Bloody hell, it's _you._"

The Doctor laughed. "Oh, you don't know how many times I've heard someone say that to me." He leapt forward giddily and extended a hand. "United Kingdom, I presume? Great Britain? England, Scotland, North Ireland, and Wales? No? Yes? I believe I know you... _quite_ well."

"Well, yes, I- I- I suppose so," stammered Britain, while having his hand wrung heartily by his savior. "So you're the Doctor?"

"Doctor... yeah, that's me. Blimey, I've never shaken a country's hand before! This is rather exciting, isn't it?" He turned and immediately ran into someone. It was another nation, who'd moved towards Britain protectively. This one had cornflower blue eyes, wheat-blonde hair that stuck up in a strange little lock in the front, and thin glasses. He was wearing a brown aviator jacket and an open if blank expression.

"What doctor?" asked the man, addressing Britain. "Doctor who? Who's this dude?" He jerked a thumb at who he was referring to.

"Ah!" said the Doctor. "You must be America! Land of opportunity... home of the free and land of the brave... no, that's _wrong_. I've got that backwards, haven't I? Sorry. Been a bit busy lately, what with the end of the world and everything..." He released America's hand and moved on to the next figure, a black-haired boy. "Japan, is it? Yes? Oh, that's lovely... And is that Germany over there?" He gave the nation a congenial pat on the shoulder. "You look _just_ the way I imagined you would... that good old Aryan blood, eh?"

Germany looked at him stiffly, declining comment. None of his usual tactics for dealing with friendly lunatics (like, for example, Italy) would work on this one, he could tell. The man was taller that him and far more sure of himself than Italy ever was.

"Oh, and _France_, too..." He grinned. France wasn't as easy to pick out from the group, but there was something about all of them that screamed for recognition. He had blond hair cut just above the shoulders and was staring at the Doctor with a kind of determined yet slavish expression that Britain, across the way, recognized all too well. Oh, dear. Of all people to decide to chase after... Britain wanted to go over and shake his ally until the nation's frog eyes fell out of his sockets. _Not_ the Doctor. Anyone but _him_.

"Sorry about the... _thing_," the Doctor was saying to France conspiratorially. "With Madame du Pompadour, I mean. And the clockwork people... that _was_ me, in case you were wondering..." He spun away, turning to greet the next country, Russia, and so he didn't see the evil grin on France's face.

Britain looked daggers at him. "_He's not human,_" he hissed.

France shrugged. He didn't care. Male or female, human or alien. It was all the same to him, as long as they were pretty.

After shaking hands with grey-haired, violet-eyed Russia, the Doctor moved on to the young man with a black ponytail - China. "Well, well. Chung-kuo, the Middle Kingdom... Things holding up well? Though you probably wouldn't tell me if they weren't, would you? Of course not. Shame Google still won't give you service. You're missing out, you know... and who's this?"

The last nation was wearing a blue uniform similar to but less constricting than Germany's. He had reddish hair that stayed mostly to its normal shape except for one long coppery strand that stuck out in an impossible way, and he had the most adoring chocolate brown eyes. "Italy?" guessed the Doctor.

"Veh!" The nation raised his hand as if in school. "That's me!"

"How are you, then, Italy?"

Italy grinned. "I like pasta," he said.

The Doctor frowned and scratched his head. "Huh," he said. "That's not quite right, is it...? Must have miscalculated..." He immediately began to worry. Some of these nations didn't seem quite fully-made. And he'd left them alone. What if the Proeliites had harmed them during maturation? What had he done...?

"You look sad!" Italy squeaked. "Like how Germany gets when I run away from something! Don't be sad, nice man!" And he flung his arms around the Doctor's middle in a sudden hug.

"Er... well, that's... thanks..." The Doctor looked at the rest of the countries, and mouthed, _Little help over here?_

"Italy!" shouted Germany sharply. "Control yourself!" The Doctor thought as he watched Germany that he almost looked as if he was jealous.

The little nation clinging to the Doctor's chest shivered when Germany shouted, and then hopped back, head hung low. "Sorry, Germany, veh. I just wanted to thank him for making the scary aliens go away."

"What, so now _he's_ the hero?" demanded America. "We don't even know this guy! He just showed up in that weird box thing! Maybe he's an alien person too!"

Britain gave a short bark of laughter. "Ha! What if he was? Would you be scared?"

"No!" America retorted. "I'm not afraid of aliens!"

"Good thing," said the Doctor. "You've had them in your country for years. Ever since you got rid of the Native Americans... but I won't get into that. So!" He stepped back and rubbed his hands together. "How are things over here? Found a way to work together yet? Sorry I'm a bit late... I didn't expect the Proeliites to find out I'd taken the ship this soon."

"The _who?_" asked Britain.

"No, the Proeliites. One's a band, one's a species. Hard to keep that straight, I know..."

Britain shook his head impatiently. "No! I meant, who are the Proel- I mean... the, er, Pro-el-ee-ites?" He managed to sound it out correctly. "Who are you talking about?"

A nagging feeling in the back of the Doctor's mind started to grow. "You don't know who the Proeliites are..." he said slowly. "But I thought I made sure that-"

"No! Of course we don't know, aru!" China cut in. "How could we? Were they those people who kept following us? The... _aliens?_" He said the word like he still didn't believe it. "We just woke up in those glass boxes! How did we _get _here?"

"How did you..." The Doctor ran a hand over his mouth and then pushed back his hair. "How did you _get_ here... So you don't know..." His expression betrayed his horror.

_But... I made _sure_ that they would know! That was part of the back story I'd programmed in - everything up to this point! They would know where they were, what had happened! They would know they had just been going on... what I'd done..._

"Where... where were you before you woke up here?" the Doctor asked, trying not to sound too worried.

All the nations began speaking at once. "In my bed..."

"I vas in Berlin..."

"I think I'd fallen asleep or something..."

"Too much vodka..."

The Doctor shuddered at each voice like they were physical blows. _What had he done?_ They all thought their lives were real... and so now, what could he say? Tell them they could never go home again, that their home didn't exist, not the way they remembered it? That they themselves didn't exist as they remembered?

So the maturation process must have been interrupted. That explained the smooth skin and perfectly formed, childlike faces, and it explained the obvious incompleteness in some of them. They couldn't have woken up more than an hour earlier at the most, so their history must not have been fully updated.

_Steady on, there, Doctor_, he told himself. _Don't worry about the details. The plan is working, at any rate. The first stage. Just... think of Earth. You're doing it for her. Good old Earth..._

"Right," the Doctor interrupted. "Sorry about all that, but it really was absolutely necessary..."

"Wait," said America. "Did you just say that _you_ brought us up here? _You_ did this?" He marched up to the Doctor and glared at him. "That's not very _heroic_."

"Bloody fool," muttered Britain. "America! If he brought us here there's bound to be a good reason! He's not just some madman in a box. He's the _Doctor._"

"Er. Well. Madman in a box is a bit closer to the accurate description than hero, really." The Doctor was used to people acting like this around him, but it was always disconcerting.

"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Britain. "I remember everything. All the times you showed up and stopped the alien spaceships hanging over Earth..."

Japan's forehead crinkled up. "So this has happened _before?_"

"About, oh, twice a year, yes," Britain responded, aloof. "You _other_ countries just don't pay much attention." He turned back to the Doctor, the starstruck expression returning. "So you want our help, then? We can help this time?"

The Doctor allowed himself a grin. "Don't you always?"

Britain looked about ready to follow Italy's example and hug the Doctor violently. None of the countries had ever seen Britain this exuberant before. The nation's eyes had simply lit up at the sight of the Doctor and were still sparkling now, almost damp.

"Is he some kind of superhero?" demanded America loudly. "'Cause if he is, he doesn't look like one. He looks like some kind of _space nerd _to me."

"He's like fire and ice and rage," said Britain stormily. "He burns at the center of time and can see the turn of the universe. He's ancient and forever."

"Okay, all right, that's enough," the Doctor cut in. "Both of you can stop it right now. I'm trying to postpone the end of the world here... ooh, did I mention that bit?" He waited expectantly for the resulting silence. "Yeah, you'd better let me talk. Could take a bit, so pull up a box. Just not the ones from the tall stacks, right? Those aren't _actually_ crates. Think, er, really thick spiderwebs _disguised _as crates..."

And on that note the Doctor began to tell the nations what had happened. It was an edited version, to be sure, and it rambled a bit, but it got the point across.

It all began in the late summer of 2016, when there had been signs of unrest between the countries of the world. People were starting to get suspicious, blaming other nations for their problems, and the demagogues ramping it up to eleven - but few people found it off-kilter, because that was just how politics went. The EU was having financial difficulties, there was uprising in the Middle East, and so on.

The living, breathing nations listening to the Doctor could remember vaguely up to the late 2000s and early 2010s, but felt more grounded in the twentieth century.

"So this is the _future?_" asked America eagerly. "Really? Do they have flying cars and awesome 3D virtual video games?"

"Yes it is, and no, they don't," the Doctor told him. "Can I finish?"

"He's a time traveler," Britain said helpfully. "The Doctor travels through time and space and saves the universe a lot. He's an alien, too. That blue box up there's called a TARDIS, and it's bigger on the-"

"Seriously?" asked the Doctor. "Could we keep these things to ourselves for now? And can you let me continue, please?"

"Sorry," mumbled Britain, looking like a chastised schoolboy.

"So, where were we? 2016..."

Because then, things started to get a little strange. Countries that had been friendly for years had begun directing their anger at each other, not to speak of the ones that were on _un_friendly terms. And within a year pretty much every nation with an army was ready to declare war on another. Full out, nuclear war.

"But of course, it wasn't them," the Doctor told them. "All the fear and anger was entirely fabricated. Or, if it wasn't, it was just played on. That's where the Proeliites come in. Warmonger species. They set up conflicts on other planets and then, while everyone's distracted, they can sap the world's resources. The war machine turns out quite a lot of profit, as I'm sure you're all aware. And the Proeliites know it, too. They're experts at what they do."

"Did they know you were here?" asked Britain, utterly rapt.

"I think so," said the Doctor ruefully. "Maybe from the beginning. I never expected them to retake the ship like that, after I got UNIT stationed up here in the first place. Not at all. The ol' Pro-els scrambled up my TARDIS so it can only go a little ways forwards and backwards in time, so I had to fetch you some other way. That's why I brought you all here in the, er, pods. Low-grade temporal transit. And I kept trying to get back but they'd set up something around the ship, shieldy thing of some sort. That was a devil to break through, I can tell you. Took me _three_ goes." From the way he said this, he seemed to believe that anything that took him a few tries to get around was advanced technology.

"We kept hearing the sound your ship makes, _Hakase_," said Japan, with a respectful bow of his head. "Was that you trying to reach us?"

"That was me, yeah," said the Doctor, acknowledging the honorific. He'd grown used to hearing it during that whole Godzilla escapade a few hundred years back. _Hakase_ and _Sensei_. The Doctor and the Master. _That_ had been a fiasco, a screw-up so big people still remembered it, in their own way. Japan probably didn't realize he'd met the Doctor before, but he never forgot the lizard. No one forgot the lizard.

America folded his arms. "So nobody notices the giant spaceships hanging over the whole planet? Why can't you just say, 'look up, everybody, there's a giant spaceship' and then they'll stop fighting?"

"That's a fair point America's got, surprisingly enough," said Britain. "Why do you need us? How do _we_ help?"

"Well, the ships are cloaked twice over. Once from the actual cloaking device, and then again from the war spell they've cast over everyone. If people down on the planet saw the spaceships, they'd think it was the other countries attacking them. Some secret military wotsit, right?"

No one looked at Britain. They all felt rather stupid now, since they'd fooled themselves into thinking exactly that.

"That's what they Proeliites can do. Use neurotransmitters and a psychic network to make sure people are properly scared. So if I tell about the Pro-els without anyone seeing the spaceship, they won't believe me, but if I get the spaceships uncloaked somehow it's just going to make things worse. And I can't use the psychic network to undo itself because people won't respond well to me in their minds. I can't make people less afraid, only _more_..."

He sighed and stared at his hands. "If they saw into my head it would break them. And that's what the Proeliites have been trying to get me to do. Use the link directly. Why do you think they gave up the ship so easily? They wanted me here so I would try it. I could stop the war and save the human race... save their lives but destroy their minds. And I won't do that. That's why I've got to have you."

The nations exchanged glances. "Us?" asked Italy. "_Me?_"

"Yes. Because you can reach them." He leaned towards Italy and put a hand on his shoulder, addressing him but speaking to all of them. "You aren't just a man, Italy. You're more than a man. You aren't a _person._ You're a _people_. And the people will listen to _you_. To all of you."

He let that sink in. America's eyes were growing wide. He _was_ a hero, after all. Of course, he always suspected that. Some of the others, especially Italy and France, seemed less eager to take on such a huge responsibility. But Britain was staring at the Doctor the way he stared at his invisible pixies and Mint Bunnies and unicorns - with absolute adoration and conviction.

"And... that's about it," the Doctor finished. "So, any questions?"

**AN: Thumbs up for omnisexual France, adorable Italia and Whovian Britain! I thought it would make sense for Britain to know about the Doctor when no one else does. Because the Doctor really does spend a lot of time there, and so many of his companions are British... **

**And also, I call him Britain instead of England because he really isn't just England, he's the UK. This is just in case anyone was wondering, since a lot of other stories and things call him England. In 2017, at least, he's definitely all of Britain.**


	6. Time Out

**AN: So. Much. Work... This is a short mini-chapter I managed to bang out. I'll get more down as soon as I can. As usual, tell me what you think. :) Detailed reviews most helpful. I like to hear if people are catching all the things I'm trying to do. I do a lot of subtle references and wordplay and things like that in my writing. I just hope it isn't too, er, subtle (sometimes that happens with me - it's a bad habit).**

"And... that's about it," the Doctor finished. "So, any questions?"

The nations sat and fidgeted a bit.

"Why can't we sit on the other crates?" asked Russia, with one of his usual creepily blank smiles. "They seem okay to me."

"Because they're actually semi-organic tissue secreted from special glands the Proeliites have in their bodies," the Doctor said, and shrugged. "So they might be a bit sticky."

"_Wow_. Gross," said America. "I actually _touched_ one."

Britain, who had been sharing a crate with America, suddenly decided to sit on the floor instead.

"That's probably how they tracked you in the dark," the Doctor informed him. "They're sensor strings. They feel everything on them, like a spider feeling a web. And that's why the sonic was so effective. Gave them all giant migraines, I suspect. Could be a couple of hours before they can get back here, if they're the main contingent of a raiding party. I've sealed off the bay and the drones really aren't too clever. Not like me. So if there's nothing else, who wants something to eat? You're probably all starving."

Italy's hand shot into the air. "MEEE!" he screamed happily. "Is there pasta? Is there pizza?"

"Um," said the Doctor. "I'll go and see."

* * *

><p>The giant storage bay ended in a floor-to-ceiling, sloping glass window. As Britain wandered towards it, looking to sit down and drink his tea in peace, he realized that there was another nation sitting as close to the glass as possible, practically flattening himself against it in what looked like an effort to get out in to the open void beyond.<p>

Beside the nation was a small stack of hamburgers.

Britain sighed. He should have guessed that America would be a space junkie. After all, he had sent people to the moon - rather pointless, Britain thought. It was a rock in space. Why go to a rock in space just to show everyone that you could? So that you could plant your flag, of course, and be a hero.

He had already decided to walk away and find somewhere else to sit, but for some reason, following some kind of dream logic, Britain's feet didn't move. He just stood a little ways behind America, sipping his tea and vaguely wondering why he was still here.

"Yo!" said America suddenly. "I smell tea and scones!" He looked over his shoulder. "Hey, dude. What's up?"

Britain took the time to find a normal crate, pull it up closer, and sit down.

"You're so chill!" America exclaimed, without waiting for an answer. "That's crazy! Shouldn't you be all freaked about this whole end of the world thing? Everyone else is running around doing science and strategy and stuff you're just sitting there drinking tea!"

"_You're_ just sitting there eating hamburgers," retorted Britain. "How is that any different?"

"I'm refueling for my awesome battle," said America, though it came out mushily because he'd taken another bite and his mouth was full. He swallowed. "You know, the one where I take on all the bad guys and kick their butts with wicked ninja skills? The one where I rescue you from being slowly tortured and killed by this evil alien mind-rape machine because I come blasting through the door at the last second and shoot the hell out of all the-" Then he stopped, swiveled back to facing the window and hurriedly stuffed more hamburger into his mouth.

Britain had been in the middle of drinking when America started this little narrative, and about halfway in he started to cough, nearly spraying tea all over himself. He put the cup down on its saucer and slowly wiped his mouth. "You rescue _me?_"

"I wash shpeaking in general termsh," America muttered though the burger. The tips of his ears were turning red.

"Oh. Really?"

No response. America just kept chewing and staring out the window. The dreamy look came into his eyes again.

"Er. America?"

"Yeah?"

Britain stared into his drink. "Have you ever _had_ a hero, then?" he asked casually.

"Huh? Whaddya mean? Like, have I ever been inspired by someone _else's_ coolness? Naw, not really. Anyway, heroes can't have heroes. That's like lice getting lice or whatever."

"Well. That's probably the most profound, metaphysical thing I've ever heard you say," said Britain sarcastically. "I think I'll write that down. Preserve it for posterity."

"Sure! You do that." As usual, the tone went right over America's head.

Britain rubbed his eyes. "Git," he said. "Of course heroes can have heroes. You think you know what all that means, heroism and acts of valor and courage... it's not like what you think. It's not all glamour and fame, it's..." He gestured, as if trying to embroider the air in front of him into something meaningful. "It's about _tradition_." He waited to see if America would say anything to this (he didn't), and then kept going, confidence building. "Every generation is full of heroes and they make more heroes because people want to be like them. It's the same old thing, every time around. It's just part of being... part of _living_. They're not _super_heroes, they're just the ones that came before. Like parents or teachers. Professors... Doctors..."

America's face went mysteriously blank, and he picked up another hamburger.

"D'you know when I first met him?" asked Britain, rushed, like he was revealing a secret that no one else knew. "I... god, I was _tiny_. Looked after myself, mostly. I was a tough little bugger. But... a kid. I still played with blocks, like in a nursery, right? I made circles with them. Stone circles. I was so neat about it, made sure they lined up right with the sun and the stars and everything. It was... in one of those." His voice grew soft and distant. "I don't remember much, but there were all these lights in the sky and they weren't like stars. They were bloody huge and they moved around so fast and they really scared me... But then I heard someone start talking. And he was so _confident_. He was shouting up at the lights and daring them to try to get through him. Just one man, with no weapon but the sound of his voice and his name - his _legend_ - and you know what happened? The bastards _backed off_."

At the end of this story, Britain seemed slightly out of breath. He took a second to pull himself together, glancing at America to see the other nation's reaction before he went on.

"I've... I've never seen anyone like that. I never will. Ever. He's been there, all my life. He kept coming back... The Doctor in his blue box, always saving the day. He never asked to be thanked. Like a _proper_ hero. And he would take people traveling with him. They'd come back and join up with the nation again and every time it was incredible. One person would just light up out of all the rest for a little while. Do you ever notice the people? The individual people? I never felt them, except the ones who came back from the sky. They were so _alive_."

Britain suddenly looked very self-conscious, and he straightened up, face stiffening into an impenetrable, slightly cynical mask once again. The only noticeable difference was the flush that was curving up his cheekbones. Bollocks. America wouldn't let him forget this. He was sure of it. But he could take it. As long as America didn't talk to France... but then, France was too busy following the Doctor around like a dog follows a steak. No worries there.

But America said nothing. He still had the same eye-wateringly dreamy look and he was still eating his damn burgers. He probably hadn't been listening at all.

"I don't know why I _bother_," said Britain, miffed. "Why am I even _talking_ to you? Why do I do it?" He rubbed his temple. "It's like talking to a piece of furniture," he mused. "Or a stuffed animal. Perhaps that's why I do it." He felt a bit guilty now. "I didn't mean that, America. Don't take it personally."

"What? Oh, sure dude," said America vaguely, having clearly not heard a word Britain said. "No prob."

Britain just shook his head. He _had _meant it. "Just look at you," he said wearily. "Not a care in the world. No rubbish thoughts floating around in there to complicate things." He sighed philosophically. "Spoiled from birth, never had to work for a thing in your life. The land of plenty. I suppose you wouldn't _need_ heroes, then, would you? I suppose it's true, then. Ignorance _is_ bliss."

"Who's ignorant?" asked America mildly.

Britain stood up and put his empty teacup down on the crate. It looked like the nations working with the Doctor had gotten into some kind of argument, so whatever it was, he wanted to be part of it. For whatever reason, he felt very much in the mood for dishing out scathing abuse.

"Hey, Britain?" America called, before the European country had taken more than a couple of steps.

"Ugh. What is it?"

America had his head tilted to one side. "I was just thinking it's too bad all you had to play with were stone blocks and things. Just making big grey circles doesn't sound like much fun..."

"Oi! Those were some pretty damn good circles I made! People still visit those!"

"Yeah, I know, but I had those little toy soldiers you made for me and things like that, and all you had were _rocks_ but you made them so cool and I never did anything like that when I was young. But anyway, I just think it's rough that you didn't have anyone really nice to look after you like I had, ya know? That's all."

_That's all?_ As if what he'd just said was as trivial as a comment on the weather? Britain stood stock still for a moment and then all but fled, praying that America wouldn't catch a glimpse of the expression on the island nation's face.

So he _had_ been listening, after all.

**AN: I just want to tell you all something about myself, and my writing, which is this: If I'm writing a story that isn't just humor, I won't announce pairings right off the bat. That's just my author's style. I like to see if I can pull it off with a mixed audience, is all. Besides, I'm an asexual and prudish yet sentimental individual who likes to see a little caring and kindness in the world. In that way I perhaps favor Hetalia pairings over those from other fandoms. It's that hippie subtext of hope for world peace and the like.**


	7. Science and Strategy and Stuff

Meanwhile, the Doctor had indirectly counted the width of the storage bay in paces about twenty times, and it wasn't getting any bigger.

"What do you think is bothering him?" Italy asked Japan. The Mediterranean nation was slurping noodles up from his little bowl as the Doctor paced by, muttering to himself and pushing his already spiked-up hair into a state of further disarray. "Doctor! Veh! How are you? You look really worried!"

"You look like an Ood, Italy," said the Doctor to Italy as he passed, sounding distracted. "Don't eat with your mouth full." Then he stomped off again.

"He's funny, isn't he?" said Italy cheerfully, pulling the long noodles that were hanging down his chin into his mouth. "Don't you think he's funny, Japan?"

"I believe he is thinking very hard about something, Itary-san," Japan responded delicately. "Perhaps it is best not to disturb him-"

"Hey! Maybe I can help him think!" Italy pushed his bowl of pasta into Japan's chest and ran after the Time Lord. "Hey Doctor...!"

Japan considered this and decided that there was no way that Italy could possibly help anyone think, but at least he wasn't chirping in Japan's ear anymore. The quieter nation needed time to put this whole thing together.

He did not trust the Doctor. Without knowing fully why, Japan had a feeling that the strange man in his blue box was a dangerous ally. Something about him told Japan that the Doctor was a harbinger of chaos. _Igirisu-san may be infatuated with that Doctor, but he does not know truly him any better than I do. Besides, he is always imagining things whereas I have given up on silly superstitions long ago._

China had wandered up to Japan while the latter was thinking this. "Well, you seem a bit preoccupied, little brother," the larger nation said. "Are you also thinking that the Doctor cannot be trusted?"

Japan sighed. "I am _not_ your brother, China-san."

"That's what you think, aru," China told him haughtily, "But just look at your-"

"But it makes no difference in the end, _da?_" said a new voice pleasantly from right behind them, making them both jump. "No more fighting. All will become one with Mother Russia." China and Japan found themselves pinned in place by Russia's heavy, ice-cold arms that draped over their shoulders. The tall man wore a very friendly smile as he looked at his neighbors. "So, how are you liking space? I came here first, you know."

China bristled. "Why don't you just go _away_, Russia? You can't bully me, I'm not scared of y-" He stopped as Russia turned his head and fixed his light purple eyes on him. They seemed to be boring a hole in China's brain. "I like space _very much, _aru," China said, his voice sounding higher than usual. "Space is good, isn't it, Japan?"

"Very good," agreed Japan hoarsely. "Yes."

The iron grip relaxed and the two Asian nations gulped for air. "I'm so glad you like it," said Russia, oblivious to the reactions of the others. "Space is nice. It is very much like my country."

_He's right_, thought China. _It's cold, it's big, it's empty, and when you're there, no one can hear you scream._

"Do not worry," Russia went on kindly. "You seemed so troubled but you should not be. All will be well." He patted their heads and drifted away, no doubt to terrify someone else.

"He's worse than usual, aru," China hissed, once Russia was far enough away. He angrily smoothed out his crumpled uniform. "I swear he is following me, aru." His verbal tic seemed to worsen as his indignation grew.

"China-san, you are too paranoid. He is like that with everyone."

Still in a huff, China snatched the bowl of pasta from Japan's arm, pulled a pair of chopsticks out of a pocket, and furiously began to eat. "Who does he think he is, aru?" raged China. "I am older and much more populated than him. My country is beautiful and green and his is a wasteland. It is so boring that he has to drink vodka all the time to bear living in it! The only reason why he so big is that most of his land is useless and no one would bother trying to own it but him! Aru!"

"Er. China-san? That pasta was Itary's. He is very possessive of his food..."

"Oh, shut up, aru," mumbled the harried China. "I _invented_ pasta."

As this was happening, France had wandered up the steps to the level where the Doctor's TARDIS stood, very curious about the machine that Britain had claimed traveled in time. France felt a bit slighted that the Doctor had only visited _his_ country a few times. How could he prefer that unsophisticated Britain to him? A man who travels all around the universe surely would have better taste than that.

And his machine even looked like one of Britain's old police boxes. It was blue and tall and what France kept noticing about it was that it was _not very big_. He imagined that if more than one person had to travel inside it, the result would be rather... intimate. This made France grin. From what Britain had said, the Doctor traveled with many people over his time. It was no wonder. A dashing, handsome man like him...

"She's quite a ship."

France whirled around to see the Doctor leaning against the railing, arms folded. Italy was hanging off his arm and uttering the occasional awed _veh_.

France tried to think of what to say. "Well, eet certainly eez-"

"Box-like? Blue?"

"Very blue," conceded France. "A lovely shade."

"TARDIS blue, I call it," said the Doctor conversationally. "D'you know, there's a species from the Perseus Arm of the galaxy that worships the color. They call it the Holy Hue, and paint their dead with it so that their spirits can ascend to Heaven. I went to that planet. Nice place."

"I... how interesting. Zat eez most peculiar, indeed."

"Not really," said the Doctor serenely. "They had a good reason. Like I said, I went there once." He straightened up. "So, would you like to see the _inside?_"

France's thoughts returned to the subject of personal space. "_Oui_," he said, grinning. "Very much."

"You too, Italy? All right, come on. Just... I understand it may be disorienting but please... nobody faint, okay?" If he had heard France's thoughts right then, he probably wouldn't have said that the way he did, but he _couldn't_ read minds, which probably rescued his innocence. "Well, here we are." The Doctor unlocked the TARDIS door and pushed it open. "Come on in."

"_Mama mia!_" whispered Italy jubilantly. "Veh, This is _awesome!_ It's so pretty!"

France, dumbstruck, stuck his head out of the door and looked at the blue box, then popped back into the TARDIS console room, trying to reconcile the two images. This process was repeated several times before France simply gave up.

"So zis box... ze box eez..."

"Yes, I know," said the Doctor, before either of them could say _it_. "Bigger on the inside, astonishing, impossible, etc. Hence the no fainting rule. Oi! Italy! No touching buttons!" He raced over to the console and grabbed the nation's outstretched finger. "Do you know what that does?" he asked sternly.

"No," said Italy, not frightened. "What does it do?"

The Doctor scratched his neck. "Well, _that_ one turns the shower on, actually, but you didn't _know_ that, so it _could _have been bad. That's the thing when you don't know, see?" He steered Italy into a seat. "You couldn't spare a sec to keep an eye on this one, could you?" he asked France. "Thanks." Then, he turned to the console and flicked on a couple of switches. The small screen lit up and the Doctor studied it, then moved his hand to a few more controls.

"Zis place eez very nice," France said after a while. "But I feel eet lacks a touch of art. Perhaps a painting or a small statue? Some flowers?"

"I like it fine," said the Doctor, still watching the screen. "It suits me." His voice was very flat. The expression he directed at the screen was one of anger, sadness, regret and fear, all muffled under layers of blankness.

"_Excusez-moi_, but you seem to be upset... Eez there something wrong?" France figured that sympathy was a very good way to get in someone's good graces.

"This is why," the Doctor muttered. "This is why I had to do it."

"Are you okay?" asked Italy, still obediently sitting on the couch. "Veh, don't be sad... Can I cheer you up? Would you like some pasta? Pasta always makes me feel better..."

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said suddenly. Both the nations looked at him quizzically. What was he sorry for?

"Doctor?" asked Italy, confused.

"I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry for what I did to you." He pointed at the screen. "But you have to understand. If you knew what was happening..."

The Doctor pressed a discreet button by the screen and the sound came on.

"_... say the worst situation the world has been in since the second world war... aggressor nations unwilling to back down, leaving no choice but... war declared in... threat of nuclear weapons... preparing to invade... the time has come to show them what we can do... this could be the end... war is the only answer..._"

Newsreels from around the world. And there was not just fear in the voices, but the hint of anger, revelry, patriotic fervor, hatred.

"Turn it off!" Italy cried, covering his ears. "I don't like it!"

"_Mon ami_, zey're only talking..." France said, trying to soothe his brother but sounding shaken. "Eet cannot hurt you."

"It does!" moaned Italy, tearing at his hair. "It _does_ hurt! And they aren't talking! It's not them! They're all dead, and it's coming through them! They're like dead puppets... all sucked dry... it's horrible! Turn it off! _Turn it off!_"

The Doctor reached out and the screen went black. "So you can hear it," he said.

"Hear what?" France stared at the trembling Italy and then at the Doctor. "What did he hear?"

"The Proeliites. He heard their broadcasts. Subsonic vibrations stimulating the mind to hate, to fear, to kill." The Doctor put a hand on Italy's shoulder. "I'm guessing you don't like fighting very much," he said gently.

Italy wiped his face. "Veh... no... I always run away... Germany always says I'm a coward and I should grow a pair of _hoden_ but I don't know what that means..."

The Doctor laughed. "Don't listen to Germany. There's nothing wrong with running away. I do it all the time. See these shoes?" He propped his foot up on the console. "Look at that. Look how worn these are. Takes me about a month to wear down a pair of shoes, and you know why?"

Italy shook his head, his eyes growing slightly drier.

Grinning, the Doctor put his foot down. "Because running away from things is what I do. All across space and time, I run. I've been running all my life, and look at me. Not so bad, eh?" He leaned down and looked right in Italy's eyes. "So you're the one that runs away - I was, too. Still am. And don't you let anyone tell you that there's something wrong with that."

"But... but you fight, too," said Italy uncertainly. "Britain says you're always saving him from bad people so you have to fight sometime..."

"Not with weapons, though. Not like in a war. Believe me, I know war. It's not worth fighting for."

Finally Italy found the heart to smile. "Veh... I like that," he said. "Wars without weapons. Us countries should try that some time."

"I think you did," the Doctor pointed out. "You call it football. Now, do you think we should go back? I wouldn't like the others to worry where we are. You think Germany's had a fit yet?" He nudged Italy playfully.

"Probably," Italy giggled. "He always does. He's just worried about me. He pretends he isn't but I know better. He's really nice when you get to know him."

"I'm sure he is," said the Doctor as they stepped out of the TARDIS one by one. "Takes care of you, does he?"

Italy nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Always!" And then his smile slipped a little. "Except..."

The Doctor knew his Earth history, and he didn't need Italy to finish. "I know," he said. "That's what happens in war. People don't act themselves."

"But he came back," said Italy quietly. "He did."

"Yes," the Doctor told him. "He came back. And that's what happens in peace."

And Italy's smile returned.

"Ze Doctor eez right," said France, who was no great fighter himself. "Violence eez pointless and barbaric and wasted effort. Ze only thing zat eez worth fighting for eez love, of course." He grinned. "Eet may be dangerous, but ze victory eez far more rewarding."

The Doctor watched the nations scattered around the bay. Having found no one else besides Germany to talk to, Russia was following China around again (no doubt to China's great horror). America and Britain were sitting and talking by the window, sharing a moment of peace from all the horrors that had happened and were to come. Germany was starting to look around him in search of his missing Italy.

"Love..." the Doctor mused. A glimmer of hope appeared in his expression. "It _could_ work..." He looked to his left and right at the two nations, the old manic gleam returning to his eyes. "You know what I'm thinking?" the Doctor asked, eyebrow quirking up.

"_Non_," replied France, for whom the eyebrow had rekindled the dying flames of desire. "You are too much of a mystery to me."

The Doctor was too pleased with himself to notice the nation's flirtatious manner. "I'm thinking," he said, "That I've been worrying about a problem that's got a really obvious solution. You know what that solution is?"

"Eez eet love?" hazarded France.

The Doctor grinned. "Yep. It's love. Aaaand... some other scientific stuff that you wouldn't understand, too, but... mostly love. Right, then. Let's get down there and save the world, how 'bout it?"

And, leaping into action, he ran off down the stairs, shoes clanging on the metal. Italy scampered after him and France, slightly disappointed but ever-persistent, followed the Doctor as well.

"So," the Doctor told Italy, who was jogging to keep up with the Doctor's long strides. "The problem, if you were wondering, is that there are three solutions to this mess. One might make it worse, another causes irreparable harm to the human race, and the third is impossible. One their own, of course. However, if I can do all three things at once, then I can fix the problem, only I _can't_ do three things at once. But if you-" And here he had to stop because he nearly ran into a rather angry Germany. "Oh. Er. Hello..."

Germany glared at him first and then turned to Italy, struggling to find words to express his worry, relief, and irritation. Italy waved. "Hi, Germany," he said brightly.

"_Vhere vere you?_" the blonde nation shouted, red-faced. "Don't you know better zan to vander off now? Remember vhat happened zer last time?"

"Yes. Last time I found something," Italy said cheerily. "But don't worry. I wasn't alone this time. The Doctor was just showing me his thingy. The ship. What's it called?"

"TARDIS," the Doctor told him. "Er. Yeah. He was with me. And France." His face grew serious. "Did you know that Italy can-?"

But Germany had grabbed Italy's arm and hauled him out of earshot before the Doctor could finish.

"Italy, I do not zhink ve should trust zat man," Germany whispered. "For all ve know he is on zer side of zer zhings zat ve saw. Just because he does not look like zem does not mean he is not like zem inside."

"But he's nice!" Italy complained. "He saved us from the things, remember? He wouldn't want to help them!"

"It could have been a trick," said Germany, "Und it vould not be a very new one. _Gott_, Italy, vhy can't you use your head for vonce?"

Italy frowned. "I am, and I think he's trying to help. He's not like those aliens... he says such beautiful things and is so kind to me. And I just know he's good," he insisted. "I just _know_."

"Vhat do you know of him? You know _nozzing!_ He does not even give us his name! He is not even _human!_" From the way Germany said it, it was this fact, above all others, that bothered him the most.

"But... are _we_ human?"

Germany looked at Italy as if the nation had lost his mind. "Vhat are you talking about? Of course ve are hu-" But then he stopped, and fear crossed his features. "Aren't ve?" he finished weakly.

It almost sounded as if he was pleading with Italy to reassure him. Italy had never heard Germany plead. "I... veh... I just thought... I don't know," Italy finally said. "I just had a weird thought. I'm sorry, Germany." He hung his head. "Sometimes the things I say are _stupido_, aren't they?"

"Perhaps... perhaps ve are not human," Germany said wonderingly. "Ve are many people und many people togezzer do not always zhink the same as just one, _ja?_ Italy, vhere did you learn to be so vise? I am sorry."

"_You're_ sorry?" asked Italy. "Really?"

"Only a _little_. I should not have shouted at you. But do not go off vith the Doctor again unless I am vith you."

Italy grinned and flung his arms around Germany. "I'll take you with me!" he said happily, effortlessly converting the other's warning into something with a completely different sense. "You can see the TARDIS too next time! It's so nice! It looks just like coral and it's so _big!_ It's bigger than it looks and there's all these buttons..." He pouted adorably. "... that I'm not supposed to press..."

Italy lifted his head up, resting his chin on Germany's chest, and Germany knew he was blushing. The damn Italian just looked so much like one of his dogs. He could have been begging for a scrap of _wurst_, although in Italy's case it would have been pasta instead. But the resemblance was there. His eyes smiled the same way as a dog's did.

"Ohonhonhon... Look at you two," said France from behind them, laughing in his usual annoying way. "Such affection. Eet eez so touching."

Germany whirled around, an act that dislodged Italy. "Go avay," he snapped. "Ve are having a private discussion."

"I can see zat," said France, winking. "Honhonhon..."

"Hey. Sorry. 'Scuse me, but I've got a very clever plan over here that no one's listening to." The Doctor trotted over, waving at China, Japan, and Russia to get their attention. "Listen, someone fetch America and Britain too. We've not got much time left before this area isn't safe. Probably twenty minutes or so, and that's not much..." He trailed off. "Why are you all looking at me like that?"


	8. A Tense Situation, Pt 1

"We don't think we should trust you," said China bluntly. "Japan agrees, don't you, aru?"

Japan bowed. "I am sorry, _Hakase_, but your actions so far have not convinced me that you are on our side. You say that it was you who brought us here..."

"Exactly," said China. "You brought us here in those transport pods, and where were you when we woke up and nearly got killed by those aliens? Why weren't you there?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to say that he hadn't expected them to emerge that early, before he realized that it wouldn't make sense if it had been a simple temporal transit. "I... er... listen, they messed with my ship. I told you that. I was trying to get to the planet but they jammed me and I couldn't get a window to any point but here. And I didn't think that they'd take the ship back..."

"Just how long were we in those pods?" China demanded. "Long enough for all those soldiers to get killed."

"China, don't be so close-minded," said France. "I do not usually get along with _l'Angleterre_ but I do trust him. If Britain believes this man eez helping us, if he eez who Britain says he eez, zen he eez an ally."

"Thanks," said the Doctor. "I agree entirely. Now, you really have got to listen closely. This is important-"

"Oh, don't be stupid, France," said China. "Everyone can see why you're on his side."

"Are you _implying_ somezing?" asked France. "Please, go on."

"Oi," the Doctor cut in. "No fighting. Fighting's all bad and icky, remember? Didn't we sort of agree on that...?"

"Who are you?" said Japan to the Doctor. "You must tell us who you are. Then we might have more faith in you."

The Doctor threw up his hands. "I _did!_ Time-traveling alien who saves the world a lot, blah, blah, blah! We went over this already!"

"Then what is your name?"

"My name..." The Doctor slowly shook his head. "It's not like human names... Believe me, 'Doctor' is as good as a name by your standards. And your knowing my name wouldn't tell you any more about me. Listen, I'm going to trust you, so why can't you trust me?"

"Because you are an alien, aru!" China cried angrily. "Why would you care about what happens to Earth?"

"I care because I don't like to see people suffering," the Doctor responded. His eyes suddenly seemed full of shadows. "And I'm not going to let the whole human race suffer because of a pack of greedy scavengers from another planet. I'm not. So if you want to help me you can, but _I'm_ going to do something about it, no matter what."

China looked him in the eye and didn't falter. "Then you are nothing more than a vigilante and you have no jurisdiction here."

The Doctor didn't blink either. "That may be true, but I'm the only one with enough knowledge and ability to stop them. So what do you want me to do? Mind my own business? Is that prudence or is it selfishness? Because I know what the other Time Lords did. They thought if you sat back and let things take their course than everything would go as it should. Well, _guess what?_" His voice had rose to a shout. "They're all _dead!_ That's what! There was a war and they're all gone... and I don't want what happened to them to happen here! Not to Earth!" He breathed out, a long, steadying breath. His chin came up and he stared them all down. "That's why I care."

In the silence that followed, they all heard Britain say, "What the bloody hell is going on?"

Everyone's eyes fell on him. "What do you _think_ is going on, aru?" asked China rudely.

"I think you're all arguing like a pack of thick bastards instead of doing the smart thing and listening to the Doctor," said Britain flatly. "I know him, all right? And when there's an alien spaceship in orbit around Earth trying to cause trouble, we Brits know who to go to, don't we?"

"Me!" It was America. He'd finally caught up with the rest of the group and joined the pack. "Because I'm the hero!"

"Yes, you," said Britain, his voice oozing with sarcasm. "We go to you... No, of _course_ not, you bloody fool. We go to the Doctor. And the next time _your _Prime Minister turns out to be a psychopath alien, or _your_ Queen's palace is going to be hit by a falling cruise spaceship, or _your_ weight loss pills turn out to make little fat beasties come out of your stomach, then you can bloody well go to your bosses and ask for help. See if they know what to do." He folded his arms. "I'm with the Doctor."

No one saw fit to respond. They all were experiencing the same drained feeling as before, when they'd ganged up on Britain.

"I'm... I have to apologize, _Hakasu_," said Japan quietly. He bowed to the Doctor. "We are all indebted to you for saving us. I should have shown more respect."

"Don't worry about it," the Doctor said cheerfully. "Glad to hear you've come around. Now, listen up, everyone. This is what we're going to have to do. We're going to split up into parties, okay? Because I need three things to happen. I need to reroute the psychic signal the Proeliites are sending down to Earth and link you up to it, because you're the only people they'll listen to right now. Their nations."

He was pacing now, addressing them all one by one. "But that's not good enough," he went on. "It can't be just you eight. I need everyone, so I have to ma- I have to transport all the other nations up here, too, and get them in the link. But that's _still_ not good enough, because I need to show everyone what's really going on otherwise they might still fight. You know what humans are like. So I need to decloak all these ships but they've probably sealed off the control bay so I don't know how we're going to do that. The only way to get to the cloaking devices is from the outside. They're in an alcove on the hull of the ship. Any suggestions?"

Immediately America's hand shot in the air. "I have a really awesome idea!" he exclaimed. "It's so amazing! You're going to love it!"

"Oh, no," muttered Britain. "Not one of _those_..."

"This is like a battleship, right? What if we could find their hangar bay and, like, get in one of their space planes and shoot up the cloaks with laser cannons or something? You know, _pew pew pew_..." He made guns with his fingers and pointed them at imaginary targets.

"For god's sake, America!" Britain griped. "Can't you just grow up for a second?"

"Hold on," the Doctor said. "Stop everything. Say that again, America. Just... what was that idea?"

America shrugged and repeated what he'd said. "All right," he said at the end. "Go on and say it's stupid. You guys always hate on me so bad."

The Doctor tried to nod and shake his head at the same time. "That... that could _work_," he said. "That really could work... Oh, now we've got a _plan_," he said happily. "Now we've _really_ got a chance... So, who's going to be the one in the plane?"

As to be predicted, America's hand started to go up, but another voice beat him to it. "I will!" said Britain loudly. "I'll do it!"

"But..." said America pitifully. "It was my idea..."

Britain turned to the Doctor. "I can do it. Trust me, I'm the best pilot out of all of us. Sorry, America, but it's the truth. And it doesn't matter if it's Earth planes or alien space fighters, I'll figure it out."

"Are you sure?" the Doctor said, worried. "You really think..."

"Do you think I wear this uniform because it makes me look good?" asked Britain wryly.

"Yes," said America shyly.

"Oh, shut- Wait... what was that?"

America looked at his feet. "Well, I mean, it _does_..."

"_Anyway_," said the Doctor, but he was grinning. He'd been right all along... "I need someone in a plane and someone in flight control. You can't shoot at ships you don't see. I'm guessing you'll be that second someone?" he said to America.

"Um. That doesn't sound very heroic," America began.

"Ah, but there's also the part about _getting_ to the hangar deck through the ship, which has got to have quite a few Proeliites still roaming around. You think you can look after Britain? Keep him safe, eh?"

"Yeah!" America brightened up. "Sure! 'Course I can!"

"Good. Now, I need some people to work on bringing up the rest of the nations. I'll give you everything you need, all the tools, how to use them... That's where the most danger is, I'd think, so why don't three of you go. Who's in?"

Surprisingly, Russia's hand went up right away. "I would like to," he said. "I will go and China will come with me, da?"

China swore under his breath. He looked ready to speak up, but the Doctor didn't wait for him.

"All right. China, Russia, France - you'll fetch the others. It's a bit complicated, so I'll have to talk to you later about what you've got to do. And we're going to need to keep an eye on the Proeliite forces in the ship. Make sure they stay away from where we are, find out what they're trying to do. So, security team. How about you... and you?"

His finger pointed first at Germany, who simply nodded. The second person he pointed at was Italy.

"_Vhat?_" said Germany incredulously. "_Italy?_ On zer _security _force?"

"_Me?_" Italy asked. "But... I can't... I don't... I don't like fighting, I told you!"

The Doctor smiled knowingly. "That's why you're on security." He didn't explain himself, simply moved on. "And that means you're with me, Japan. We're going to find the mind-link room and reprogram it. You any good with computers?"

Japan nodded. This worked for him. It gave him a chance to keep an eye on the Doctor.

"So... I suppose that's it, then!" The Doctor clapped his hands together. "Well, as they say in France..." He winked at the nation as he named him. "_Allons-y!_"

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before Britain couldn't stand it anymore. "How about," he said, with a strained smile, "you give me the map?"<p>

"Dude!" cried America indignantly. "C'mon! I've _totally_ got this figured out!" He grabbed Britain's sleeve. "This way, bro, come on."

Britain let himself be dragged a little ways down the corridor. "America, do you get the feeling that we're _going in circles?_" he asked.

"Nope!" said America promptly. "We're almost there!"

"Oh, good," said Britain. "That's _splendid_."

They had been 'almost there' five times before, and America still wasn't getting wise. But every time Britain tried to take the map away America would speed up and hold the sheet just out of reach. _Damn his height_, Britain thought to himself. He was going to have to steal the map as soon as possible. Maybe when they were on a ladder down to a lower level. He could tackle him or something.

They followed America's imaginary route through sloping bulkheads and corridors wide and narrow, with Britain beginning to wonder what the hell was wrong with himself. He'd agreed to this plan. And what was the plan? Get in a plane and fly around space through invisible ships that he would only be able to tell were there if mission control gave him the coordinates. It was like playing battleships and minesweeper at the same time. And what totally trustworthy nation was going to be mission control?

Yeah. So that was the plan.

Why had he been so eager to do this? That wasn't like him at all, to volunteer for something as mad as this, and it had been _America's_ plan in the first place! Well, that's what you got for being nice to someone. You end up with everyone thinking you're best friends and making sure you have to work with that person because you're a team, right? God, it was hopeless.

"Hey," America muttered, staring at a wall. "That's not supposed to be there." He frowned. "Jeez! This map is wrong! What the hell?"

That was the last straw. "The map isn't wrong!" Britain yelled. "_You are!_" He made a flying leap for the sheet but America was too quick.

"No way, man. I'm the hero, so you listen to me."

"Give that to me!" Britain exclaimed, trying and failing to pull America's arm down from above his head. "You don't know what the hell you're doing, you git! At least let me _look_ at it!"

"No!"

Britain ground his teeth. "Do you know where we are on the map, then? Do you?"

"Yes!"

He crossed his arms. "Well, then show me."

As to be expected, America started back defensively. "Uh... I..."

"You don't know."

America colored. "Yes I do! It's not that hard! And... heroes don't get lost!"

"I don't care if you don't know how to read a map," pleaded Britain, trying to be reasonable. "I'm not trying to hurt your stupid ego. I want to see it, that's all." He held out a hand for the paper and started to advance on America.

Desperate, America tried to back away and look at the map at the same time. "Lemme just see for just one second... I've got it... I've _got_ it..." His eyes flicked over the paper as fast as possible.

"Give it to me... don't be stupid, just give it to me..."

"Wait! Wait!" America frantically put out a hand to halt him. "Hold on hold on, I've got it! _No_ problem! We just need to go... um, um, um... through there!" And before Britain could stop him, America had started hauling him off backwards towards a door.

"Let me go!" Britain yelled. "You wanker! Get off! Let go of me!" It was no use. America was too strong and too persistent. He dragged the protesting Britain through the door and shut it behind him.

"Aw, come on, British dude," said America, smirking. He always called Britain, 'British dude' when he wanted to be really annoying. "Don't freak out on me."

"_I'm not freaking-_" Britain started to wail, and then he bit down on his tongue. "Don't you ever do that again."

"I swear, this is totally the right way. C'mon. Let's go."

It really didn't look like the right way, at all. The air felt strange and almost filmy, in a very unpleasant and clinging way. Britain seethed all the way down the new hall, and he began to find that he wasn't just angry. There was this other feeling in his chest, like a very heavy and fluttery stone (_can a stone be fluttery? _Britain thought. _That doesn't even make sense. What the hell?_) was weighing down his stomach or possibly his lungs - he was a bit fuzzy on the anatomy of it. Or should that be, fluttery?

Fear. Yes, that was what it was. He was definitely afraid. It was a kind of apprehensive dread. He kept seeing himself flying that stupid plane straight into a ship and blowing himself to pieces, and his last moments of life would consist of America's stupid Yankee voice squawking through the earpiece, "Whoops! My bad, bro!" and the feeling of his veins running cold as he realized just what was about to happen, which was instant, violent death.

It was a terrible way to go, and Britain kept replaying it in his mind even as he tried to shut it up.

_He's going to kill me_.

Britain suddenly swallowed hard.

_He's going to... what?_ It wasn't like he hadn't technically been thinking that, but it still gave him a start when his mind said it in such bald terms. _He's going to kill me_. Where were these thoughts coming from? It was like someone else, not him, had actually said it in his mind, and then that made him think it.

"Hey, Britain?" asked America slowly, jerking the nation out of his reverie. "You know what?"

"No..."

America turned back and looked at Britain wanly. "Um. You were probably right about this not being the right way," he said, and as he did it occurred to Britain that America was whispering. Which meant...

_Bollocks._

"Don't... move..." America whispered carefully. "Don't... look... around... me... Just back away, okay?"

"What was it?" hissed Britain.

"Um. Um. It was. Well. Um. Shadows. That moved." They kept backing away down the hall. "But don't worry. I've got a plan."

"You've got a-" Britain started to say, outraged, but then his breath caught in his throat and the rest of that sentence came out as little gulps for air. Because the shadow was approaching... no, it was looming. Britain, frozen in fear, let America shuffle him around a corner and waited for the thing to appear.

And then shadow finally realized itself into its true form.

It was like Pasiphae, mother of the Minotaur, had not fallen in love with a bull but instead a sort of muscular green spider. The monster had a domed head with little to no neck; it had a string of black eyes stretching from cheekbone to cheekbone; it had fangs: a clicking, snicking, wiggling pair of fangs. Its skin was sparsely dotted with long, quivering hairs. It did not have eight legs, but two, which would have been some consolation only it looked like being bipedal would be faster than octopedal.

"_Seeking intruders,_" it was whispering. "_Seeking... seeking_..." The horrible, clacking voice didn't come from the opening beyond the fangs, but rather seemed to be emanating from huge pores on the creature's skin, which opened and closed like eyes. Britain found himself wondering what kind of monster acne these creatures got as teenagers.

Then came a voice from farther down the passage. "_Go on_," it said, in a bored way. "_Seek. Seek them out._" The creepiest thing about it was that it almost sounded normal. Pleasant and normal. It would not have been a far stretch to call the voice _silken_.

The creature ambled past slowly, lumbering like an ungainly ox on two legs. If it had any kind of good hearing, than it should have noticed the two pairs of panicked lungs trying their hardest to breathe in small, silent gasps. But it kept walking, following some other trail.

Until it stopped, and twisted with lightning speed, flinging out a hand with a frog-like finger pointing down the hall. "_THERE!_" it shrieked. "_SMELL!_"

Only the hallway was empty.

The creature's shout had, however, not quite managed to conceal the sound of a door clicking closed.


	9. A Tense Situation, Pt 2

**AN: A far more fast-paced chapter than any of the last. I had to fit it all in somehow. Remember to review!**

**By the way, some of you may have noticed that nearly every the chapter name has a double meaning of some kind. Some are more obvious, some are tricky, and some I made up once I'd realized the trend, as justification. Special happy points to anyone who tries to figure them all out!**

In the side hall (if he hadn't been so scared, Britain might have started wondering if the place was anything _but_ halls) America turned to the still-motionless Britain. "Dude! We've got to run! And I haven't even told you my sweet plan yet!" He began to shepherd the catatonic Britain through the maze of doors.

"I... don't... like... spiders..." Britain said jerkily, as America pulled him to a stop.

Since America couldn't remember how to pronounce the word, 'arachnophobia', he couldn't think of a decent response. Either way, in the face of this unexpected and unpronounceable development, he decided to carry out his plan without explaining it first. "Just follow my lead, okay?" he said brightly.

"America, why exactly are we trying to stand on this table?" Britain finally asked.

"Weeelll," said America. "I'm trying to pull this air vent thingy off the ceiling so we-"

Britain didn't even let him finish that. "NO! Not the air vent thingy! That's the worst plan _ever!_"

"It works every time!"

"In _films_, it works! Not in bloody real life!" He had more to say, but it was cut off by a crash. America had managed to remove the vent cap by jumping and hanging on to it until it fell off with him.

The nation hopped to his feet and back onto the table. "Okay! Now, let's get in!"

"No!"

Fifteen seconds later.

"It's not big enough! We can't fit in that!"

America tried to remember the word 'claustrophobia'. It was on the tip of his tongue. "Come on, Britain. I can hear the spider people coming!"

So the result was that Britain found he _could _fit in the weird tunnel after all, and he managed to jam the grille back over the spot where they'd climbed in.

There was very little space. Moving through it wasn't so much crawling as trying to inch like an earthworm. "_Damn it,_ _I hate this_," Britain snarled (but quietly). It was horrifyingly constricting, and he could barely see. In some places his arms were literally pinned to his sides by the walls. He had been _that_ close to saying, instead of 'I hate this', 'I hate _you_', but he controlled himself, and felt very righteous about it.

"Don't worry," America told him. "These pipes have got to go _somewhere_."

_How do you know that?_ Britain thought. _You don't know if they go anywhere._ He tried not to focus on that and instead offer some constructive criticism. "So, where would an air pipe lead?"

"Right over the secret conference room of the enemy?" He really did watch too many movies.

_Constructive criticism,_ Britain reminded himself hastily. _Look on the bright side. _Really, it could have been worse. At least the horrible spider aliens weren't here. They wouldn't fit. "Er. Well, let's think. Or, I'll think, and you can wrinkle your forehead and pretend that's thinking." He had to strain for a moment to push himself around a bend. "Right, I'll start. Why would the alien ship need ventilation? Maybe it goes to a place that gives off fumes or something."

"Ooh! Me! Can I have a go?" America tried to raise his hand but there wasn't room. "It's carrying air, so it should-"

"No. You can't talk. That's the rules."

"Hey!"

Britain attempted a shrug. "Don't care. I want to get out of this place as soon as possible." He thought and then added, "You know, since that map isn't going to be very helpful for us right now, you could maybe pass it down to me."

"I can't," America said. "I can't move my arms that far. Sorry."

_Damn, _Britain thought. _It was worth a try. _He was starting to feel angry again. "I mean, why would the blasted ship have ducts this big anyway? It's like they designed it for people like us to crawl around in."

"They'd have probably made it bigger, then, right?"

"These can't _possibly_ be air ducts," Britain went on, rankled. "You don't _need_ air ducts this big. It's utterly pointless!" He tried to make an angry gesture, but his arms had wedged themselves in an uncomfortable, immovable position. "Oh, hell-and-Irish-people!" he swore. "America! I'm _stuck!_"

"Really? Really stuck?"

Britain tried to rock back and forth, without success. "Yes, really!" He had tried to push himself forward with his arms folded in front instead of at his sides and now he felt like he was caught in a straightjacket.

America wriggled around, trying to get a look. "I don't know... you could try coating yourself in something sticky..."

"WHAT THE HELL KIND OF ASS-BRAINED ADVICE IS THAT?"

It really did sound like America was laughing at him; silently, so he wouldn't notice. "Well, it works with stuck can lids..."

Britain tried to scrub his mind clean as soon as he heard that. "What have we _got_ that's sticky? And don't you dare answer that!" He redoubled his efforts to get out, feeling panic creeping up inside him.

"So, is the problem that you're just in a tight spot?" America asked. He still sounded too cheerful for him to be planning anything good. "Okay, cool! I've got a good idea!" And he planted his boot on Britain's head and pushed as hard as he could.

"_NO! Stop that! NONONO-_" After a moment of extreme pressure and pain, Britain shot backwards like a wine cork out of a bottle.

He could hear America clapping in a congratulatory, job-well-done sort of way. "See! All good!"

Britain filled his lungs to let loose a stream of curses but then his throat caught and he swallowed it all. Hiccupping slightly, he whispered, "Did you hear that? That clicking?"

"What clicking?" asked America. He listened. "Oh. _That_ clicking."

"Something's _coming!_"

"How? How is something coming?" America scrambled forwards a little ways. "Oh, _crap!_ Now _I'm_ stuck... no, no, never mind, I'm fine... how could something be coming through the air vents?"

It sounded like scuttling. Something was moving very quickly through the same on stick-like legs.

"What if they aren't air vents?" Britain said. He found himself beginning to hyperventilate. "_What. If. They. Aren't. AIR VENTS!_"

At the end of the tunnel two twitching legs had appeared, and then the rest of the thing clicked forwards. It had wiry hairs and hair-like wires and a metallic but pulsing shell. Light from its red glowing eyes spilled into the tunnel.

"_Spiders_," Britain moaned. "Giant. Bloody. Cyborg. _Tunnel spiders. _Not air vents. Spider tunnels. America... _I hate you so much!_"

There must have been one at America's end, too. "Don't scream! I think it makes them angry!"

The hairy bodies hesitated and then came rushing forward, straight at Britain's feet. "_It's going to run up my trouser leg!_" he screamed.

"Britain! Grab my hand!"

"Why?"

"I've got a plan!"

"NO!" yelled Britain desperately. "No more plans!"

But America wasn't going to be stopped now, and besides, it was worse for him. Britain could at least kick back, but the bowling-ball-sized spiders had a direct shot at America's face. So America began to slam his feet and fists against the thin metal bottom of the pipe, targeting each colossal blow to the same spot. A large dent appeared, and then, without warning, the floor caved in.

Britain clung to America's arm as they fell, expecting at any moment the hard floor to slam into his back and knock the wind out of him. But it didn't happen like that. The feeling of falling went on for far too long until, finally, they landed on something elastic, like a sticky, trampoline-y hammock.

America tried to roll off of Britain and onto his stomach. "Oh my god!" he yelled. "It's got my face!" He started scrabbling at the weird webbing, which pitched Britain back and forth.

"Calm down! Stop it! You're shaking the-" Britain looked down and let out a very unmanly shriek.

Because the hammock they'd landed on was one of many that were strung across a giant, fathomless pit. "America! Stop moving so much, or we'll fall!"

"Fall?" America's face popped off the web. His glasses were askew. "What d'you mean, fall?" Then he looked down. "OH."

_Pit_ wasn't even the right word for it. No doubt somewhere below there was a bottom, but it couldn't be seen through the stringy white hammocks that were all maybe twenty or thirty meters across. It was like a cylinder the size of a rather small building had been simply removed from the spot and the place it occupied had become infested with giant silkworms. Or... spiders...

The web jerked back and forth as the two nations tried to balance it, and there was much shouting from Britain every time his end tipped over too far. Once it was relatively stable, America tried to remember the word 'acrophobia', but, like the others, it kept eluding him. "Dude, have you got, like, a fear of everything or something?" he finally asked.

"No! Just the things that can kill me!" Britain's cheeks were very pale. "What the hell were those things?"

"Probably they were unpleasant and grotesque minion constructs that exterminate intruders the way antibodies in the human immune system destroy bacteria and things," said America knowledgeably. "Or they could be little baby versions of the aliens on a school trip."

"I think the first one sounds much more likely," gasped Britain. "And what the hell are _these_ things?"

"Spiderwebs," America answered. "_Duh_. I mean, look at 'em."

It wasn't just the texture and appearance that made the resemblance complete. At the ends of the hammocks, where the webs went into the wall, more hairy bodies were scurrying out of tunnels like the one they'd been in. At an alarming speed they started down the hallway.

Surreptitiously, Britain swiped the map from America's back pocket and stuffed it into his own.

At the same time America gestured and shouted. "Look! Over there! I think I can see a big door or something!"

"What do you mean, a big door?" America pointed down at a patch of the wall far below. "See? It looks like it's another tunnel, but it's bigger than them. It's like a door... Heyyy... I think I've got a _plan_... Have you got anything sharp?"

"No! _No more plans!_"

"Why not?"

"_Because they're all terrible!_" cried Britain. "That's why! And why do you need something sharp?"

America was rummaging through his pockets, and the swarm of spiders was getting closer and closer. "Aha!" he said happily. "I knew I had this somewhere!"

It was a very old and worn button that said 'I LIKE IKE' on the front and had a giant pin on the back. "What's that?"

"Old campaign button," America said, sounding at once nonchalant and proud. "Sometimes I keep them just so I can show everyone how politically active I am."

"Or maybe so you don't forget the names of your Presidents?" Britain muttered unkindly, as America turned around and began to clamber along the length of the web. "What are you going to do?"

"Something _heroic_," said America, "Hm... got to get the trajectory right..."

"_Trajectory?_" Britain said in horror. "Your plan needs you to do _maths?_" He didn't trust America with grade school arithmetic, much less... trajectories... _oh god, no_...

America took the pin off its catch and began to slash at the net with it. Strands broke and started unraveling, and the whole structure shook, knocking some of the spider minions off their course.

"ARE YOU MAD?" cried Britain, as the last strands broke.

"Hang on tight!" whooped America, and caught Britain around the waist as the nation fell with the web which, with only one support left, was suddenly swinging towards the wall.

They screamed all the way down; Britain out of terror and America out of excitement. The side of the pit was rushing closer and closer, and it looked like they were simply going to crash into the wall instead of fall through the door but at the last second America let go of his hold and slid down the web, and caught the very last tendril of the rope as they flew into the open hallway.

The landing was very ungraceful, with them simply hitting the floor and rolling away from the pit in a tangled-up ball of appendages and clothing. America was shaking with laughter. "That was _awesome!_" he said, adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Who wants to try that again?"

_He thinks it's fun..._

It was that inner voice that didn't quite sound like Britain's own. But once the thought was in his mind, he began to hear his own consciousness pick it up. _He just thinks it's a game... with his stupid, idiotic plans... reckless... He thinks it's fun..._

And then, once again, not guiltily this time: _He's going to kill me._

_I'm going to get in that plane and fly right smack into a ship because America is going to screw something up the way he always does and it's going to kill me._

Britain thought the terror would die down once they'd landed safely, but it was only growing worse and worse. He was done. It was just too much - in the end, it was the fear. The horrible, shivering fear that kept lodging itself in his stomach and driving his thoughts into a frenzy. It was like he had never known fear in his life.

And there was not just fear, but this horrible discomfort, that fluttering, shaky sensation in his throat and his chest. He couldn't quite identify it but he knew, somehow, that it was connected to America, specifically, and he didn't like it at all. The closer he was to America, the worse it got, and now he wanted to be as far away from the other nation as possible.

And the voice said,_ I've got the map._

The thought and its implications hit him so hard he staggered upright, reeling. But he didn't care what it meant. The tunnels and the spiders and the falling had turned his guts to ice. A red haze was forming over Britain's eyes.

"Are you okay, Britain? Hey, don't look so freaked out. It's going to be fine."

And suddenly Britain grinned - a strange, unnerving, strained grin. "It _will_ be fine," he said, and he shook with a brief spasm of laughter. His eyes still looked terrified. "For me, anyway." He began to back away.

"Hey..." said America. He tried to sit up, but flopped back to the ground. "_Hey!_ What's going on?"

Britain felt his tongue dry up, and it seemed to flap loosely in his mouth. He couldn't see too well, either. Everything was too sharp and yet too hazy. "I think it's time we part ways," his dry, flapping tongue said. "I'm not going to do this anymore."

"Do what? Britain, dude, you're scaring me!" America finally found his footing and waveringly stood upright. "Stop backing away like that! Not going to do what?"

"I'm not going to stand by and let you _kill me!_" Britain screamed.

The effect this had on America was as if he had been slapped. "Wh- wh- what?"

Britain kept backing away. "I'm not going to wait for one of your stupid plans to go wrong and get me killed. I'm not going to let that happen. You think I _trust _you? With my _life?_ I'm getting out of here. I'm getting out before-"

"I... you... Getting out? What do you mean?"

"Got the map," said Britain, and his eyes looked like they flashed red. "Get to the hangar bay, find a plane and get out of here. That's _my_ plan." He wanted America to stop looking at him like that, with that horrible, hurt expression. He wanted to see him angry, not ready to cry.

No! He didn't want to see him at _all_. Britain's feet kept bringing him farther and farther away from the other nation.

"What... what... what about the Doctor?" America whimpered. "What about saving the world? We _need_ you..."

"What? I'm supposed to risk my life to save yours? Forget it! I'm a nation! Nations don't _do_ that!"

America blinked. "You sound like you're drunk or something..."

"I'm not drunk! Just smarter than you! I... I..."

And he couldn't find anything else to say. He just a gulped like a stupid fish, hating himself for it, and then he turned around and ran, leaving the shocked America behind, staring after him.

Britain could hardly find the fine motor skills to unfold the map as he ran, and once he did, the dots and lines seemed to swim across his vision. The sick feeling, the maddened fright in his stomach persisted, and kept pushing him onwards. He felt that he _should_ feel guilty about what he'd done, but he didn't. That was what made him feel uneasy - that he didn't feel guilty about it. He _should_ care, but he didn't.

Because he was right. _Nations don't risk themselves for others. It doesn't work like that_. And he didn't even care if it _did_ work like that.

Fear makes us all into selfish bastards. And when it happens to you, you know it does, and you just don't care. You want to save yourself.

It was getting colder and colder, or perhaps it was just him. He couldn't stop shivering. His neck prickled, and it felt like every shadow on the wall was watching him. Britain huddled up against a wall so nothing could come from behind, and held the map out, trying to make sense of it. His hands shook.

He was a coward and he deserved to die, but he was going to try his damn best not to so either way, you won, right? Either he got what he wanted or what he deserved. It simplified things, didn't it?

So why was he still shaking?

It was that damn America's fault. He was always running around and trying to be a hero so naturally Britain got it into his head that there was something to this whole heroism drivel. He couldn't stand that stupid nation being stronger than him and wealthier than him and even (somehow) more well-liked than him. Because America _was_ likable, just a total ass to add onto it, and for some reason people liked jerks. Not nations, obviously, but ordinary people liked him. They always made so much of him in the past. And Britain was always just the Old Country. _That_ one. Not a bad thing, but not a good one. Some people hated him, some just didn't dislike him, and that was about it.

It was all America's fault, somehow. _Somehow_.

Britain tensed, and his heart almost stopped. Was it hope or was it terror or was it that strange other feeling? He had heard footsteps.

It was fear, because then the shadows came.

They didn't make a point of hiding themselves this time. There were at least five of them, all green and hulking and horribly arachnid like the first. Britain tripped backwards, crumpling the map in his hand, and tried to run.

The room was a dead end. Britain collapsed at the end of it, flattening himself against the wall as if, with enough pressure, he could rearrange the molecules and simply slide through it. If he thought he had been terrified then, he had no word for what he was now. It transcended fear. It was as if he was already dead, his mind stopped and frozen in that last nightmarish moment.

"_You are Britain._"

It was the voice. The one in his mind, that almost sounded like himself but was not quite right. It was smooth and calm and spoke with perfect Queen's English. And the figure, as far as Britain could see through his blurry vision, was not like the other terrifying, hunchbacked monsters, but quite thin, moving elegantly among the others.

"You are Britain. You are a nation of millions. You are thousands of years old and you could, in theory, live forever. Tell me, Britain." It leaned down. "Are you afraid?"

All the nation could do was shake his head defiantly.

"Yes, I know you are. There's no point in hiding it." The figure stepped closer. "Do you think you are about to die?"

Britain opened his mouth. "Who the hell are you?" he whispered.

"_Answer my question._" The voice had gone flat and hard.

"I-"

"Of course you do. And you'd be right. You _are_ about to die. We don't usually waste our time, but it's been interesting to watch you prepare yourself for this moment. I think it was the curiosity that held our hands, at first. But, yes, now you are going to die."

"No..."

"Or... perhaps not. I am offering you a choice. I am _always_ offering a choice."

Britain tried to sit up. "What's the choice?" he croaked.

"I could leave and let you steal one of our ships and fly away to Earth, or I could stay here and have you killed. And it's _your_ decision."

"Why would you let me go?"

"Because you will die either way. Not to _yourself_, no. You will still think that you are alive, but you will be dead to all the others. And that is what is important. You will all die, one way or another. Whether because you are actually dead or your spirit is dead, it does not matter. You yourself are not important; what you _are_ is. And if you are not what you are, then you are dead."

Britain tried to wrap his head around it. The only conclusion he could make was that this had not been mere accident. Everything he'd done must have planned this all along. What had the Doctor said? They had ways of making people afraid, and angry...

... the Doctor had said...

Britain found a spark of courage somewhere and pushed himself up to his feet. "I'm not negotiating with someone like you."

It laughed. "Yes, you are. You were the whole time. Don't make this difficult for yourself."

It was true. His courage faded and he slid back down the wall in despair. America was strong and he was weak. He was the one who gave in.

... America...

"He's not coming for you."

Britain slowly looked up.

The thin figure was impatient. "You think that America will come to try and save you. Why would he do that? You abandoned him. You ran away like a coward... do remember the way he looked-?"

"_Shut up_," Britain rasped, his breath whistling through his dry throat. "You _shut your face._"

"You know he isn't coming, and I know he isn't coming, so why keep deluding yourself?" The thin figure turned. "Kill him."

"You said... a choice..."

"What can I say? I lied. People lie, Britain. It's in their nature. You three, kill him, and then find the other. The little one. Oh, we've got a very interesting plan for the little one, haven't we?" It waited, as if listening to a response. "They don't speak much, you know. They aren't very clever. I don't know why I bother talking to them, really, but maybe it's just sentiment."

The words rang eerily in Britain's memory. Hadn't he said something similar about... about...

"That's _useless_," the figure snapped. "You're doing it again, aren't you? Deluding yourself into thinking that someone's going to try to _save_ you. It's so irritating, the way you keep _doing_ that. Not that it helps you at all. Hope is underrated."

"He's that stupid," Britain whispered. "He might..."

"He won't. And there's _no one _here to say otherwise."

And then... _SMACK!_ The first of the Proeliites hit the floor.

"_Wrong_," said America, stepping over the body. "There's me."


	10. A Tense Situation, Pt 3

**AN: So many chapters in so little time! Is it someone's birthday? Well, it probably is, somewhere in the world, but not anyone I know. I'm just being unexpectedly productive this weekend. This chapter basically finishes up with Britain and America for now. Sorry that I've been focusing on them a lot. I'm going to move on to a new team soon. You'll see. (And don't worry if you want more of Britain and America, as well. I'm most certainly not done with them yet. But other nations need a chance in the spotlight.)**

Britain's heart leapt in his chest and then, slightly embarrassed, it snuck back down to where it was supposed to be.

America's eyes were blazing. The nation twisted on his feet and faced the next target, bringing his arm up in a wide arc. Britain saw a flash of sparks and the second Proeliite went flying backwards.

The third of the monsters charged America from behind but he slammed his heel into its kneecap, then swung at the creature's head. Now Britain saw what America was holding - it looked like a truncheon, but it fizzled with sparks, and it must have been powerful to lay flat a drone in one blow. Where had he gotten it...? But just as Britain wondered, the fourth Proeliite reached behind it and its hand came out wielding another nightstick. America must have stolen his from the first one before using it against its former owner.

Britain hardly had the time for any positive emotion like hope to well up in him because the other nation was fighting like a demon in front of him, and the flurry of swings and parries and punches happening before his eyes knocked all sense out of Britain until all that was left was shock.

"_Never! Go! After! My! Friends!_" America was yelling, punctuating ever word with another ferocious swing of the truncheon. He was not very large compared to the seven-foot Proeliite guards, but right now he seemed to tower like a giant. "_Don't! You! DARE!_" He delivered a mighty kick like a pro soccer striker, and a third monster was down, though not unconscious.

And though together they might still have overpowered him, the Proeliites were starting to retreat from America and his rage. Britain understood: they were trying to protect the thin one. The two who were still fit made a greenish wall in front of their leader, and the third crawled up and followed them. America beat them back all the way through the doors, and once they were through, he slammed them shut and jammed the sparking nightstick through the handles.

_That was actually clever_, Britain thought in mild surprise. If anyone tried to batter down the door the stick would break, and probably electrocute anyone coming through, since the door was metal.

He was thinking about this because it helped him not think about everything else, like the way his pulse was way too high to be safe and kept skipping like a broken record, and how he felt like he'd just spent time in a sweat lodge from Hell and then been dunked in a drift of methane snow from Titan.

And like something was slowly, steadily, unwillingly draining out of him. Was it anger, fear, or both at once?

Or it could be his ear fluid, because America had bounded over to him, grabbed his head, and started shaking it. "Whatever you are, get out of his brain!" America was yelling wildly. "Get out of Britain and give him back, you stupid jerk alien thing, or I'll rattle you out myself! Give him back! Give him back!" There were actual tears in his eyes, but that was probably from hysteria. "Britain! Come on, man! You can fight it! Don't let it take over you! Because that would totally suck and then I wouldn't be able to argue with you over pointless, banal things anymore! I'm sorry I said anything about mind rape! I didn't mean it! I don't ever want that to happen to you even if it is just so I can rescue you because it's actually really stressful-"

"St-t-op-p-p _sh-sh-a-ak-k-i-i-ng-g-g _m-m-m-y-y-y h-he-a-d-d-d," Britain said, his voice buzzing like he was talking through spinning fan blades.

"Huh?" asked America, stopping abruptly. "What?"

"You're going to give me whiplash, you idiot!" groaned Britain. "You don't have to _do _that! It doesn't work like that!"

"Are you resisting the alien mind control?" asked America doubtfully. He curled his fingers around Britain's shirt as if he was getting ready to start shaking him again.

"I wasn't being controlled by them! It's not like that! It just makes you... makes you scared..." He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Feel free to release me any time you like."

"Um. Right." America let go and rocked back on his heels. "How's your brain?"

"I suppose... quite well, considering."

Curiously, America seemed to be fighting with himself over something, unsure of whether or not to speak. His conscience tore it out of him. "I'm sorry!" he blurted out. "I'm really sorry, dude! I shouldn't have been such a jerk..."

"What on Earth are you talking about, America? You just saved my _life_. How can you possibly be sorry...?"

America was holding his head in a vise-like grip. "I should have known! I should have seen what those things were doing to you right away! I'm supposed to be protecting you..."

On an impulse Britain reached out and gripped America's shoulder. "You _did_ protect me! You did just what you were supposed to do! This is all _my_ fault, you arrogant fool! Stop being so... so... _heroic!_"

America's head shot up. "Huh? What d'you mean?"

"Stop _blaming_ yourself for everything! You don't have to take responsibility for the mistakes _I_ make. That's so _typical_. You hero types get it in your damn heads that you have to save everyone and that no one can look after themselves!" He shook his head bitterly. "I betrayed you. All of you. And you're blaming _yourself?_"

Now it was America who clasped Britain's arm. "That wasn't you! That was them, inside your head..."

"I told you it's not like that! They don't control you, they just... _suggest_. And I listened to them. I listened..." He hung his head. "I was still me the whole time. _I _said those things to you..."

America shuffled closer. "That's what they want you to think," he said seriously. "But I don't think it's really like that at all. Remember, it happened to me once, too. I thought you were behind all this..."

"That was..." Expecting an apology, Britain tried to wave the end of America's sentence away. "It wasn't that... look, you don't have to-"

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying. Dude, listen to me. I just remember that right afterwards I felt, like, really awful, because it didn't feel like something had made me think what I did, it felt like _I'd_ been thinking it. But then... I realized it wasn't me at all. It wasn't me because..." He paused, unsure of how to describe his thoughts. "Well, if it hadn't been for the Proeliites, I wouldn't have been thinking like that, right? And neither would you. Brains are all just chemicals, aren't they? They mess with the chemicals. And that means it can't possibly be you."

"What... what do you mean by that?" asked Britain, slightly dazed.

America reached out and pressed his finger to Britain's forehead. "That's you in there. Whatever happens is because you see things and hear things and feel things and what your brain does with it all... that's _you_. It's all secret and hidden and no one else has anything exactly like it. And if they messed with what happens inside here, then you weren't _you_ anymore. If they touch the secret... then it isn't the same..."

Britain slowly blinked. "Who the hell are you," he said, "and _what have you done with America?_"

America coughed uneasily. "Uh... dude, are you okay?" He waved a hand over Britain's eyes. "It's me, okay? You know me."

"Yes, I do, and I've never heard you say anything _remotely intelligent_, much less _profound_," Britain shot back, strangely angry. "What's gotten into you?"

"You've never heard me say..." America's eyes started to wobble uncertainly, and his forehead creased up.

_Nice going, Britain_, the nation told himself angrily. _Now you hurt his feelings_.

"Oh, America, I didn't mean that," he said hastily. "It's just... that was unusually... philosophical... in a good way... forget it..."

America shrugged. "I was just thinking, after we were in the dead body room..."

"_You_ were _thinking?_" said Britain, but this time it sounded like he was just teasing. America snorted and pretended to tackle him in mock anger.

"I'll get you for that...!"

Britain was laughing. "No, you won't!" But in the end America had him pinned in a half-Nelson against the wall. "All right! All right! You win." Britain struggled ineffectually. "Let me go now."

America giggled. "Do you take it back?"

"N- Yes! Fine! I take it back."

"Go on, say it, then," said America, still wearing a giant goofy smile.

"Say what?"

"Say that I'm actually quite clever. Go on, say it just like that."

Britain sighed. "All right... America?"

"Yes?" asked America eagerly.

"You're... actually quite clever." And before America could say anything to respond, Britain added, "I mean it. I really do. Ever since we got here you've been doing things that I had never expected you were... capable of. I really misjudged you."

_Uh oh. Too much?_

America's eyes looked very watery again. "_Really?_" he said in a small voice. "You mean that?"

"Look, all I'm saying is that you aren't usually like this, okay? Don't think this means I-" He swallowed. America had snaked an arm around his neck and caught the back of his head in one hand.

Britain flinched. It was that weird _feeling_ again, that irrepressible annoying _feeling_. Usually the more friendly he was with someone, the more comfortable he felt around them, but this particular person turned that whole rule upside down. "Uh... America... listen, I'm not sure I-"

But then a voice interrupted him.

"_Ah! There we are! Molto bene! Knew this thing would work if I just gave it some more power-_"

Britain and America turned as one. "_Doctor?_" they both asked, in disbelief.

"_Oh. Hold on. Did I just butt into some kind of private-?_"

"Where are you?" Britain exclaimed. "How the hell-?"

"_The map!_" said the Doctor cheerfully. His voice was a bit crackly and not too loud but otherwise it was quite remarkable. "_Oh, I am clever, aren't I? Super-thin receptor-transceiver circuitboard, just like they had back on old Gallifrey maybe two thousand years ago. Isn't it brilliant? Come on, don't just sit there. Pick up the map!_"

America got it first. "This thing _talks?_" he said incredulously. "The map _talks?_"

"_Well, no. _I_ do, and you hear it. It's like a phone. Or a walkie-talkie. Only thinner, and it's got a map on the front for convenience and disguise. Hello, America! How are you, then?_"

"Awesome! This is so cool! Can you see me, too?"

"_No, it only does sound. But I can talk to all of you at once- yes, hello to you too, France. Thanks but no thanks..._" He paused, listening. "_Yes, he's here... Britain, France... er... sends his regards_."

Britain rolled his eyes. "Tell him he's a smelly git."

"_He says hi, too._"

"Does he, now?"

The Doctor hesitated. "_Sort of._"

"Well, then, tell him hello back _and_ that he's a smelly git, all right?"

"_Right-o. France, Britain says hello back, and that he's very glad to hear that you're safe. And... oh! Hello, Italy! That's very nice of you! Where's Germany?_" Another pause. "_Well, this is wonderful. I think we're still all alive! Congratulations, everyone!_" There was the sound of clapping. "_So, this is my very clever little idea that's being carried out right now. I'm going to be a very helpful and friendly guide to you all via these maps. I'll assist you if you need it, and make sure you're going the right way, and shout instructions at you at various times just to bother you! It'll be splendid fun, don't worry._"

Britain tapped the map as if that got the Doctor's attention. "So...er... is Japan with you? Is he all right?"

Japan's quiet voice came through. "_Moshi moshi_."

"Hello to you too, old chap. How are you doing?"

"_Quite well. This is all very new and exciting for me._"

Britain nodded and smiled. "I should think so, yes."

Then the Doctor's voice returned. "_You two, Britain and America. How are you doing? I hope you've reached the hangar bay by now._"

America winced and hung his head. "About that... I think I-"

But Britain cut him off. "I'm afraid I got a little turned around," he said. "I'm terribly sorry."

Carefully, America turned to look at Britain, first in confusion and then in understanding. He patted Britain's shoulder.

"_I hope you're all right,_" the Doctor said, sounding very concerned. "_Did anything happen to you?_"

America and Britain's eyes met. "Did anything _happen?_" America said thoughtfully. "No, it was... pretty dull, actually."

"_Entirely_ dull," Britain corrected, with a perfectly straight face. "I could have _died_ from boredom."

* * *

><p>The Doctor spun around in his swivel chair to face the new set of controls in the interface room. It felt like being in an airline control center. The whole structure was on a spire protruding from the main hull of the ship. There had been a long climb up a spiral staircase to reach it, but the view was worth it.<p>

Next to the Doctor, Japan sat in the copilot's chair, industriously typing on a holographic keyboard.

"How's that first firewall coming, Japan?" the Doctor asked. He had his square-framed spectacles on and his sonic screwdriver out, which said that he meant business.

"It is nearly down, _Hakase_. The algorithms are a bit tricky."

"That's fine... remember, the first firewall is not going to be as bad as all the rest. And there's bound to be an alarm in there somewhere, so make sure you disable any strange codes of text."

Japan nodded, without letting his eyes leave the screen. "I will remember that. How is your work progressing?"

"Not bad, I suppose." He shifted his headset. "Britain? Sorry, I didn't catch that..."

"_It wasn't very interesting, no_," said Britain. "_Not at all_."

"I'm sure that's a lie," said the Doctor. "Come on, I want to hear. I bet it was quite an adventure." He listened to Britain speak for a little while, nodding occasionally. He smiled all through the beginning, but towards the end his face grew serious. "Tell me exactly what he said," the Doctor ordered. "Word for word." He listened some more. "Doesn't sound like a very nice chap," he commented. "All right. Keep going, but be careful." He pressed a button. "How is it coming with you lot?"

"_Russia's acting a bit funny, aru,_" said China. "_Not that he doesn't always. But I don't trust him with this..._"

"Oh, don't worry. Just go find out what's wrong with him and give him a hug for comfort or something." Feigning oblivion to China's high-pitched protests, the Doctor pressed another button. "Germany and Italy... how much of the place have you got mapped out?"

"_Nearly two levels so far,_" said Germany. He paused, and then his voice grew lower and the Doctor could hear his breathing. It sounded like he was holding the paper up to whisper into it. "_I vould not have believed it but Italy is qvite good at this. He remembers vhere everything is so exactly. Ist uncanny._"

"Probably a photographic memory," the Doctor said, waving a hand and leaning back. "I hear he's quite a good artist."

"_Ja, but..._" And then the Doctor heard Italy's voice, too.

"_Hey, Germany! Why are you whispering to the map like that? Veh, you look so funny! Come on, I've got another diagram worked out!_"

"_All right,_" Germany said. "_I vill report back soon._"

"You don't have to-" But the Doctor was cut off by a rustling which meant that the paper was being folded up. He laughed slightly. He was almost certain that Germany had saluted the map before putting it away.

**AN: Hooray! Omniscient helpful Doctor map! Wouldn't you love one of those in a first-person puzzle game? Aaaannndd... Team Germany and Italy coming up next!**


	11. Jealousy, Pt 1

**AN: Sorry for any fluff.**

**... Why am I apologizing? Enjoy! XD**

Team Security, comprising Italy and Germany, had started off on a much better foot than the others. This was mostly because Germany knew how to follow instructions. If the word 'stickler' was strong enough to apply to him, then it was a good way of describing his attitude towards rules. If you were going to do something, it was worth doing it right.

After a brief period of having a description of their task spewed at them by the speed-talking Doctor, the two nations received a thin plastic map, handfuls of tiny button cameras and, oddly, some art materials. And that was it. When Germany had asked if they should be armed, the Doctor had given him a vague but pointed look of disapproval, and then trotted away.

"I guess he wants us to stay out of trouble," Italy had said cheerfully. "We're not supposed to be killing things, after all, and weapons just attract violence, right?"

Italy had begun saying things like that far too often for Germany's liking.

"Hey-a! Germany!" The little nation waved a hand in front of Germany's face. "Look! I've got another map drawn out, see?" Grinning, he held up a sheet of paper that had a quick sketch of a set of hallways. The middle of the paper was all lines and symbols, but around the edges were quite talented depictions of about seven or eight locations throughout the area.

Germany studied them. "Vhy," he asked. "did you draw a cat valking through vone of zer pictures?"

"Umm..." Italy said. "Artistic license?"

This sent Germany through the roof. "Italy!" he raged. "Zese pictures are not art! Zey are tactical maps! You cannot draw _cats _in zem vhere zere vere no cats!"

"Oh... you want me to erase kitty?"

The nation gritted his teeth. "_Erase zer damn cat, yes_." He stood over Italy as the cat was excised from the picture, just to make sure Italy did it. "_Sehr gut_. Now, give me zer paper."

Italy liked this part. He watched eagerly as Germany straightened out the plastic and held it in front of him like a tray. Italy then picked up his drawing and placed it on the map. A series of blue scan lines streaked over it, and then the paper turned blank. The drawing it had held was now added to the collection of data that the Doctor then processed and translated into more updated charts and diagrams. Italy squealed as a section of the map lit up and changed. "Look!" he said happily. "That's where we are!"

Germany grunted in affirmation. Unlike Italy, he found the advanced technology a bit disquieting. But he had been told to use it, and he wasn't going to question orders.

This was how they proceeded through the halls: placing tiny cameras, making maps, and uploading them. Just twice they had heard signs that there were Proeliites near. Whenever this happened, they had to make a note of where they were and the location of the aliens. If they could find out anything else, like the size of the party or its direction, then they were to make note of this as well.

The cameras also helped to track the movement of the raiding parties. And as far as the cameras showed, the Proeliites had sent very few troops to the ship. There were the ones that had killed the occupying UNIT soldiers, and that was it.

Again, disquieting. It was like the aliens were letting the Doctor and the nations build up a base here. Although, according to the Doctor, Proeliites avoided direct confrontation as much as possible, because their drones were not clever and their citizens were not usually very strong. They functioned based on entrapment and careful planning. So far, there had been no sign of the formidable opponents that the Doctor had warned them all of.

Eventually Germany had to give voice to his unease. "Italy, do you ever vonder vhy zer Doctor is helping us in zer first place?" he asked, as they climbed down the network of interlaced ladders to the lower decks.

"Don't be so silly, Germany! He's helping because he's nice and that's what nice people do! Some people are just like that." He twisted himself around so his back was to the wall, steadied himself, and then leaped for the ladder across the way. "Whee!" There was a _clang_.

"Zer vones zat are simply _nice_ are not usually zer vones zat are _clever_," Germany pointed out, stretching away from the first ladder and taking hold of the rail of the second. Then he swung himself over to the other side. "Zer clever vones have too much control over zhings, I zhink. Zey are used to getting zheir vay."

"Veh... you're thinking about this too much, aren't you?" Italy laughed as he scampered down the ladder to the floor. "Come on, Germany, don't be slow!"

_Don't be slow_... He's_ telling _me_ to hurry. This is getting too bizarre._

It wasn't that Germany didn't like seeing Italy more confident, more self-assured, even, at rare times, more sensible. In fact, it was quite... well... _attractive_. Not, of course, in a perverted way, Germany kept telling himself sharply. Nothing like that. But it gave Italy a tiny aura of charisma that had never really been there before. What he used to be was simply cute (but only in the same way that, say, a _dog_ is cute, obviously...) with a childlike nature that some people found sweet. But now he was that _and_ something else.

So it wasn't that Germany didn't like that Italy had started to man up a little. It was because the reason behind it all, the _catalyst,_ if you will, was the Doctor.

"Germany, is something wrong?" Italy was standing in a hallway junction, chewing on the end of his pencil. He held a half-finished map in his hands.

_Thinking too much... maybe he's right. I should simply focus on my duty. But... since when is Italy's advice any good?_

"_Nein_. Nozzing is wrong." He waved a hand dismissively "Do not let yourself be distracted. Continue your vork."

Italy looked at his notebook and then back at Germany. Then he put his pencil away and trotted over. "No, it's okay, veh. I don't really have to think about it much. It just happens when I start drawing." He hugged his paper to his chest. "But... I think if something's bothering you, you ought to say what it is."

"I _told_ you. Nozzing is bothering me."

After pausing for a second to sketch a few more lines onto the paper, Italy said, "But that's what those Proel- those aliens do, isn't it? Veh, right? And the Doctor said that they'd try to mess with our thoughts and all that, so maybe we should-"

"I am _fine!_" Germany snapped "It... it has nozzing to do vith zer aliens!"

Italy put a hand on Germany's arm. "Ah! So there _is _something-"

Germany reddened and slapped the hand away. "Italy, you are vasting time! Finish your map und do not bozzer me! Zat is an order!"

In a second Italy seemed to shrink like a sweater in the wash. "I'm sorry, Germany!" he yelped, and then scurried off to the junction, where he took out his pencil and began to scribble furiously. Germany relaxed a little. That was more like normal behavior for Italy, and Germany didn't feel comfortable when things were very different from the usual.

He didn't notice the way Italy kept glancing back at him, furtively, with an expression that mixed confusion with rebellion. If he _had_ noticed this, Germany might have been a lot more worried than he was right now.

Things carried on like that for a little while, until the map started talking.

"_Ah! There we are! Molto bene! Knew this thing would work if I just gave it some more power-_"

At that time, the two nations were rounding the top of a tall staircase. Germany, who had been holding the paper out for inspection, nearly jumped out of his skin, and dropped the sheet. It fluttered away from Italy, who dove to try to catch it, and spiraled down the levels to the floor far below.

"_Scheiße!_" Germany stared down the length of the staircase in dismay. At the same time Italy cried happily, "Doctor!" Then he tore down the stairs after the fallen map. After a moment of hesitation, Germany reluctantly followed.

"Doctor! Is that you? Veh, are you in the map? It's not bigger on the inside, is it, veh? Just kidding! Veh, I know it's like a phone, don't worry. Veh! Veh! _Buongiorno_, Doctor!" Italy was practically wriggling with excitement, spouting little 'veh's left and right. "I missed you!"

On the other end, the Doctor laughed. "_Oh! Hello, Italy! That's very nice of you! Where's Germany?_"

"Right here," said Germany, a little stiffly.

"_Well, this is wonderful_," the Doctor said."_I think we're still all alive! Congratulations everyone!_"

Italy let out a little cheer, then whirled around and hugged Germany. "Veeeeeehhh! We're all okay! That's great!" Before Germany could respond, or even start to go red, Italy released him and turned back to the map, listening to the Doctor's voice with rapt attention. Germany couldn't help but wish that Italy would listen to _him_ like that sometime, with that much loyalty and trust in his eyes.

"_Mitkommen_, _Italien_," said Germany abruptly. "Come along. Ve have vork to do." He reached down and picked up the map-slash-communicator. Italy made a face and trudged back up the stairs after Germany, briefly lifting his notebook and pencil to say, _yes, all right, I'm working_. The Doctor kept talking, describing how his map worked, and then his voice shut off.

Italy tapped his pencil to his head and tried to concentrate on a picture. He put the tip to the now blank paper and sketched a few lines. Then he led himself through the past section of halls in his mind, and began to draw more rapidly. This part was a little boring, because all he was drawing were lines. It didn't feel very difficult or artistic to him. But within a minute he had a new floor plan in front of him. Then he began to make dots where the bugs had been placed, and started work on a sketch. His pencil flew over the page, flicking and curling and shading at a rate only just surpassed by many old-school printing machines.

As Italy did this, Germany watched with half-irritation, half-admiration. If only Italy had been this diligent when _Germany_ asked him to be. If only, if only...

"_Germany and Italy_," said the Doctor from the map. "_How much of the place have you got mapped out?_" Something of an unnecessary question, Germany found himself thinking. The Doctor did have all the maps they had made so far.

"Nearly two levels," he said, holding back the strange urge to make an angry comment. He didn't think much about it, though. He always had urges like that, come to think of it. He was used to controlling them, especially around superiors.

Though, should the Doctor really qualify as a _superior?_

He crushed that thought too, and held up the paper, trying to speak more quietly. "I vould not have believed it but Italy is qvite good at this." Oddly enough, Germany found himself blushing as he said this. What was wrong with him? "He remembers vhere everything is so exactly. Ist uncanny."

"_Probably a photographic memory_," the Doctor's voice responded, and there was a brief crackle as he shifted. "_I hear he's quite a good artist._"

"_Ja_, but..." He stopped as he saw Italy staring at him.

"Hey, Germany!" the nation called. "Why are you whispering to the map like that? Veh, you look so funny! Come on, I've got another diagram worked out!"

_Another_ diagram? _Already?_ How long had it been? Two, three minutes? How fast did Italy work? "All right," Germany said to the map. "I vill report back soon." He gave it a crisp salute and then folded it up, thinking, _Gott verdamnt! This stupid future with its technology_... _now he's going to be listening to us the whole time._ Once again, his thoughts shook him up a little. The emotion behind it had been quite irrational. Why would he care about whether the Doctor was listening?

Ten minutes later the pair had reached the corridors at the very rim of the ship, where the walls sloped up into windows and the great void of space could be seen through them. Turning ponderously below was the great shining Earth.

And no matter what Germany did, Italy would not pass by any one of the windows without rushing to it and squashing his face against the glass like a little kid by the shark tank in an aquarium. "Veh... oh, I wish I had some paints right now..." Italy kept sighing.

Germany grew annoyed by this. "Vhat good vould zat do?" he demanded "You don't have _time_ to paint a picture. Und anyvay, vhat's so special about painting it? All you can see is black und light. You just... draw a circle, und zat's zer Earth."

Italy unsquashed his face from the window and looked at Germany curiously. Something about what he'd said struck a chord in Italy's memory. "Heeyyy... say that last bit again..."

"Vhat? I said... you draw a circle, und zat's zer Earth. It is not _complicated_ art."

"Draw a circle, that's the Earth," said Italy slowly. His brown eyes started to sparkle. "Veh... that sounds like my little song I used to sing when I lived at Mister Austria's house, when I was cleaning! I had a silly working song for when I would sweep and... how would you know about that, veh?" He tilted his head to one side and looked at Germany curiously.

"I didn't," Germany muttered. "It is a coincidence."

Italy didn't pay attention. "Because the only people who were there a lot were... let's see... Austria and Hungary..." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Big brother France came sometimes... and _mio fratrello _Romano would visit with Spain... and Holy Roman Empire, of course..." His shoulders slumped a little and he heaved a sigh. "_Misero Santa Roma_... poor Holy Rome..."

Germany noticed the sudden drop in Italy's good mood. "Italy... vhat-?"

Italy didn't let him finish, because he perked up again and said, "Veh, do you want to hear the song? It's a niiiccce song. I made it myself!"

_Not another one of Italy's songs,_ Germany thought ruefully. _He's going to sing anyway, isn't he? I will tell him not to and he will do it anyway._ As he thought this, Italy started to hum a little to get the tune.

"Italy, zis is not a time for _singing_. Ve must-"

But of course, as he thought, Italy ignored him. "_Hey, hey, papa, could I have some wine, please? Hey, hey, mama, hey, hey, mama..._"

"Stop zat. Stop zat singing at vonce."

"_I can't forget the taste of that Bolognese that I ate last night..._"

Germany smacked his forehead. Of course the song would have to mention pasta. Italy laughed and cavorted around him. "_Draw a circle, that's the Earth. Draw a circle, that's the Earth._ Come on, Germany! Let's dance, veh?"

"_Nein! Nein!_" Germany said desperately. "No dancing!"

"_Draw a circle, that's the Earth... I am Italy!_ _Ah, what a fabulous world you can see with just one stroke of the pen!_" And then he faltered, frowning. His memory had failed him at last.

Germany was about to sigh in relief when, almost without any order from his mind, he found that he was singing the next line. "_Let's all have a toast vith our boots-_" And then he swallowed and went pink.

"Veh!" Italy squealed in excitement. He finished the song, "_I-tal-i-aaaaahh! _You remembered it!"

"I didn't," Germany insisted stubbornly. He felt very foolish now.

Italy kept on tugging at his sleeve, and suddenly started talking so fast and with such a violently strong accent that he could barely be understood. "I can't-a believe that you could possibly know-a the song that I used-a to sing when I was _so-a little_, Germany, isn't it _crazy? _Veh! Veh! Where did you hear-a the words to my song, Germany? Did you ever visit-a Mister Austria's house when you-a where a _bambino_? I can't-a believe you could have been there and I didn't-a notice you!"

The more Germany thought about it, the odder he felt. The words had just sprung up in his head. Spring follows winter, yellow follows red and orange, and the one line of the song followed the others. But the song was so random... it wasn't as though he was completing the most logical rhyme or the end of a well-known phrase. The only explanation was that he had heard the song before, probably more than once. It was strange but not unbelievable. Perhaps in his childhood he had visited Austria's house; they were related, after all. Yes, that was probably it, he decided.

In the absence of any response from Germany, Italy had quieted down a little. "It's such a shame you don't sing much, Germany," he was saying. "I think you have a very nice voice."

Trust Italy to say something like that. "_Danke_," muttered Germany, staring down at his shoes. "It is... nozzing compared to yours, though," he added, his face heating up. He lifted his head, hoping for some kind of reaction from Italy.

But, as usual, Italy's attention had wandered off to something new. He was back to ogling out the window at the Earth. "Veh... I wonder if the Doctor sees things like this all the time? He must go everywhere..."

Germany felt an unwanted stab of pain in his chest, and a flash of anger.

All right. That was _enough_. It was getting too damned weird. Italy was right - he had to be under some kind of influence. Germany opened his mouth to speak. "Italy..."

"Yes?" The nation trotted back to him expectantly.

Germany tried to force the words out through the block that had just risen in his throat. "Italy, I vas zhinking about vhat you said before, and I have somezhing to... to..."

He couldn't do it. Why couldn't he do it? What was wrong with him?

Then his brain caught up with what he was doing and mentally slapped him over the head. _Deutchland, you dummkopf!_ he told himself angrily._ It's not the alien mind control! It's you! You are simply... jealous!_

"Germany... you okay?"

"Fine, fine, _ja_." He wiped his forehead and fended off a concerned Italy. "Never mind. I vas wrong, ist nothing important." Thank god his body had been smarter than his thoughts and stopped him from saying anything damning.

Italy poked Germany's arm. "Something isn't bothering you, is it?" Germany shook his head shortly. That had been a close call.

Right about then there was a _bleep_ and the Doctor's voice came out of the map, speaking hurriedly. "_Oi! You two! Listen up! The cams are picking up a whole group of Proeliites heading through the halls, and it looks like they're going to be going right through where you are right now!_"

"_Vhat?_ How far from us...?" Germany didn't need to finish the question. The map (or, perhaps _map-screen _would be more accurate) had started to show little red dots blinking like radar blips. And the answer to Germany's query was: not very far at all.

"Ohhh... That's not good, is it?" Italy stuck his head under the crook of Germany's arm and stared at the map from this vantage point. "So, Doctor, what do _you_ normally do, veh, when this happens to you?"

"_Run like a nose with a rhinovirus._" said the Doctor immediately."_By the way, that was a very good question, Italy. I'm glad you asked that. More people should ask themselves that. There'd be a lot less death and other nuisance in the world if they did._"

"Ve cannot simply run avay this time," Germany protested. "Ve are on patrol. Zis is our job. Ve must protect zer others."

"_With what? Fisticuffs? Come on, there's got to be at least seven or eight..._"

"Zen vhat is zer point of _security?_"

"_Aha! Well done! Another great question... you lot are a couple of little Socratics in the making, aren't you? Now, I _know_ I said to run, but... you know, when I usually mention running at all, ever, in any situation, it's _probably_ the right time to start doing that, but _it so happens _that running _isn't_ actually what I want you two to do. How about that, eh?_"

Italy and Germany looked at each other cautiously. "Vhat do you vant us to do, zen?" Germany asked.

"_Ah, good,_" said the Doctor. "_Now, I know this may seem a little dangerous, but... try to just go with it, okay?_"

**AN: I suppose I adapted the lyrics to 'Marukaite Chuikyuu' a little to fit the rhythm of the song. It's okay, though, right? *grins* R&R!**


	12. Jealousy, Pt 2

"I can't believe ve're actually doing this," muttered Germany. "Italy, stop _moving_ so much."

"Can't help it," whispered Italy. "Itches. Want to scratch." He wriggled around and tried to reach his leg.

"Of course you can help it. You simply ignore. It is a matter of self-discipline. And it vas your decision, anyvay. Now, _control yourself._"

"But... it's _really, really _itchy..."

Italy couldn't reach his legs because he had very little mobility at that moment. The reason for that, and for the irritation, was that Italy had tied himself to the rafters with white flags (Italy's pockets had the same handkerchief-producing quality of a prestigiator's, as long as the cloth was white). And the reason why he'd done that was that the two nations were standing on the curve of the inner glass dome that covered the core hallways of the ship, right where it intersected the ceiling and made a little alcove that someone could, in theory, nestle themselves in if they were willing to risk the long, long fall. Italy, it seemed, was not planning on that happening to him. Germany had to concede that it eased his mind to not have to worry about the little nation experiencing what a free thinker might term a gravitationally-induced drop in altitude.

Also, the alcove happened to be a perfect position to observe both the hallway and anyone who, theoretically, were to walk down it.

Germany kept his hand closed tight over the tiny spy camera, resisting the urge to roll it over his palm, or toss it in the air. He couldn't think what kind of trouble he would be in if he accidentally dropped it.

"Can you scratch my ankle, then?" Italy asked hopefully. "It's the left one."

"Vill you stop bozzering me if I do?"

The truthful answer was, 'probably not', but Italy simply whined, "It _really_ itches..."

"_The Proeliites are almost at your position_," the Doctor informed them from the rolled-up map in Germany's other hand. "_Have you found a safe place to hide yet?_"

"Ve are on zer dome," Germany told the Doctor.

"_Ah. Marginally safe, then. Just out of interest... what the hell are you doing up there?_"

After a second of thought Germany said, "Er... It vas Italy's idea."

Italy looked puzzled but proud. "Veh? Was it really?" he asked vaguely.

"So, vhen you said, '_Oh, look-a, Germany! They'd never see us if we were up there, veh!_' zat vas simply... an observation?" Germany's imitation of Italy was humorously crude but recognizable.

"_The things you people think of... such convoluted planning. Seriously, you're worse than I am. Well, at least you've got a good shot down. And the magnet should help. Just flick the switch and throw._" He paused for a second. "_No, the green one... I don't care if it doesn't make sense. It's how it goes. Blue wire into green slot, red wire into blue slot, and so on... How does that not make sense? Oh, er... sorry, Germany, Italy. Hang on a moment... Who says green can't go with red? Why does it have to go with green? That's practically segregation! I'm sure that's what people in the South said about busses, and schools, and marriages. 'Oh, wouldn't it be easier if all the green people sat in the green seats in the front and the red people sat in the..._'" Long pause. "_No, no, no. Southern hemisphere of Deneb Five. Notoriously racist. What did you think I was talking about?_" Another pause. "_Well, it's green to red and red to blue and don't touch purple or black. And you don't knock my TARDIS technology, China. I think it makes perfect sense. Anyway, where were we? Germany? Italy?_"

"Trying to plant a camera on one of the Proeliites so we could spy on them?" Italy suggested. "Still that plan, right?"

"_Yeah, that plan. You sure about going through with this?_"

"Veh... well, can't really back out of it now, can we? Since I've already tied myself to the ceiling and everything."

"_You... with _what_?_" the Doctor asked incredulously. "_Hold on... forget that. Check your map... they're coming. Hm... I reckon I'd better shut up so they don't hear you. Remember, just click and throw. Got it? Good, I knew you could do it byefornow._" There was a hurried click and silence. Italy and Germany both opened their mouths to protest but it was too late.

"He is untrustworthy and reckless," Germany said to himself, irritated. "A good commander does not leave his troops unprepared."

"Well, we aren't actually troops-"

"Und a good commander does not neglect to give his troops weapons," Germany went on. He was slowly working himself up into a micro-fit of rage. "Und..."

"Veh!" Italy burst out, slapping his forehead. "_Stupido!_ I just remembered!"

"Vhat is it?" asked Germany anxiously.

"I forgot to tell him! China stole my pasta when I went to talk to the Doctor and now I can't tell the Doctor to tell him not to do that again! Now he'll think he can steal my pasta whenever he likes and I'll starve to death because he'll take all my food..."

_A good commander,_ Germany thought, _does not ask Italy to do anything._

He looked on the map and saw the red cluster of red blips approaching. Germany tried to stifle his internal rant against the Doctor's irresponsibleness, and held up the button-sized camera, getting ready to throw. His boots slipped a little on the slick glass and he wondered, as his gut lurched, if he should have followed Italy's example and made himself a little more secure.

"Hey, Germany?" whispered Italy.

"Italy, I am trying to concentrate."

The Mediterranean nation twisted a little. "My leg tickles now."

"_Italy_..." whispered Germany dangerously. "If you start zis up again..."

"Just itch my leg a little, please? Pleasepleaseplease?"

Germany tried to calculate how far away the marching feet were. If he missed his chance... but Italy would keep bothering him until he did something. Sighing sharply, Germany reached over and quickly scratched Italy's leg. "Stop bothering me now," he ordered, turning back to the lip of the dome.

Italy shifted uneasily. "It's not my leg now. It's my back..."

"_Just... vait... until.. ve're... done!_" Germany growled.

Italy was silent for a second and then said, "Now my _shoulder_ tickles."

"_Gott verdamnt, Italien,_ if you say somezhing about zis _vone more time _I swear I vill-"

On Italy's shoulder, a thin metal limb slowly lifted and placed itself a few centimeters higher, tugging slightly on the collar of his shirt. A few more limbs followed.

"And now it's my neck," Italy complained, as a couple of hoary bristles brushed against his skin. "It feels like something's-"

His voice shut off, and then Germany heard a high-pitched, rasping whistle from his side. It sounded very much like the noise someone makes when they are trying not to scream, and, as it turned out, it was.

"_Germanyit'sonmyneckgetitoffgetitoff-_"

The nation turned to look at Italy and had to muffle a pre-scream himself. Sitting on Italy's shoulder, staring at Germany malevolently with a string of eight red eyes, was the biggest damn spider he had ever seen in his entire life.

It had a little stalk with what looked like another eye that was made of glass instead of eye-stuff, and metal legs and at the same time it was horrifically organic and alive. The stalk twisted to look at Italy and back again, and then the spider, seemingly deciding that enough was enough, it sprang right at Germany.

Who choked back a swearword and dove out of the way, his feet scrabbling at the dome. For a moment it looked as though he was going to fall, but Italy lunged forward and caught Germany around the middle. At the same time, the spider landed on the wall and scuttled up to the ceiling, where it watched the two nations smugly, the lens of the stalk focusing and refocusing.

"Ugh... Germany... you're heavy..." Italy thought he could feel his arms begin to pull out of their sockets. "You really should eat less sausages..."

"It's not fat, it's _muscle_," Germany hissed. "And is zis _really_ zer time?" He struggled to regain balance, and then made a grab for the spider.

But the spider suddenly swung across on a thin filament, dodging Germany's hands and landing on the other side.

"What are you doing?" Italy whispered hysterically. "Veh, stop moving so much! You're going to make me drop you!"

"It is a spy! That stalk is a camera! Zey vill know vhere ve are!" Germany swiped at the air again, and this time felt his hand slice through threads of silk that were deposited in the air. They were like tiny live wires, sending uncomfortable jolts up his arm, and if he had more time and were a different person, he might have wondered about it. But right now all he thought about was catching the spying arachnid.

"So it was spying on us spying on the others? Spying on spies? Veh!" Somehow this idea was amusing to Italy. It was probably the most intellectual that his sense of humor got.

The spider danced around the area a little more, taunting him, always just eluding his grasp, and then it clicked away across the metal rafters.

"I must catch zat spider!" Germany said, turning to Italy and taking hold of his wrist. "If it knows ve are here it vill tell the others und zey vill find you und... I cannot allow zat. Take zis."

Italy's fingers were forced open and the camera button pressed into his palm. He goggled at it. "_I_ do it?" he asked faintly.

"_Ach_... ist simple, Italy. Press zis catch and zen throw. Press and throw. Just remember zat! Even _you_ couldn't..." He didn't finish that, because as it came out Germany realized it wasn't quite true. But there was no time to work out a better plan. "Never mind. Just press and throw. Throw it zat vay," he added, in case Italy _really_ hadn't been paying attention. But then, sometimes he didn't.

"Germany, don't leave..." whimpered Italy, but it was too late. The other nation had already rushed away after the spider, gripping the metal rafters and ridges on the ceiling for support. He did look back, for just a second, but his expression, as it often was, was nigh on unreadable.

Italy looked at the camera in his hand, and then at the map in his other. _Press and throw_, he thought. _I've got this! It's easy!_ He could hear the sound of footsteps from far away. The Proeliites were coming. Dangling from his white-flag harness, Italy nervously kept his eyes Germany, who was slowly creeping up towards the spider, which was perched on the ceiling, its spindly limbs sticking out every which way. The creature did not seem to notice that it was being stalked. Germany carefully reached out and-

- the creature let out a _skree!_ and leapt off the ceiling, abseiling down the wall on its threads and landing on the floor. Italy could see but not hear Germany mutter a swear and then climb back to the ribbed bit of wall they had used to reach the dome in the first place. _Don't go down!_ Italy thought. The aliens were coming - he could hear them louder now. But it was too late to call out. He could only wait and watch as Germany scrambled down the wall (_he makes it look so easy_, Italy thought) and went after the spider once again.

The spider seemed to be slightly amused by Germany's efforts to try and catch it. As he dove back and forth throughout the hallway, the blasted thing always could stay just out of reach. He kept listening to the footsteps, trying to judge when he had to get back up, but eventually the blood started to rush to his ears as his ineffectual rage grew. He felt like the spider was laughing at him.

Germany hated it when things laughed at him. Especially, he now found, when those things were giant hairy metal spiders.

There it was! He pounced through an open door and his hand just ruffled the wiry hairs on the arachnid's body. But it wasn't under his hand. It had vanished. He cursed again, more foully this time, and got to his feet.

This new room was much less clean than the hall. It was full of pipes thick and thin, and the air felt very dusty. Germany suppressed a cough and started searching for the spider again. It leapt about like a cricket - it could have been anywhere right now. It could be creeping down right behind him...

He spun around, feeling the hairs on the nape of his neck prickle and stand erect. But he had to keep calm. It was a matter of keen eyes and sharp senses. You looked for shapes, not colors... you watched for movement...

There was a black shadow moving across the floor. It looked just like the spider... he crept after it, carefully raising a fist to pummel the thing flat. He tensed, lifting his arm higher...

Strange. There was nothing there. The floor was empty. Perhaps it really had been just a shadow... but if it was, then what had cast it? His brow creased in thought as he considered this. If it could cast a shadow on the floor like that, in such correct proportion, that meant that the light source had to be directly above it, and that meant _it_ had to be...

_Gott hilf mir,_ he thought in horror. _God help me, it's right abo-_

And like an angel of death the spider dropped from its thread, landed on his neck and jabbed a needle into his vein. The effects were instantaneous. Germany slid helplessly to the floor as the world turned to mist, and then his mind went dark. His last conscious thought was, _Italy... I have failed you_, and the last emotion he had was shame.

* * *

><p>Italy had begun to worry. <em>Press and throw<em>. It was so simple...

It was _too_ simple. It was so simple that there was bound to be something he would miss. And what if he tried to _throw_ before he _pressed?_ What world-ending catastrophe would occur then?

He suddenly _knew_ that he was going to do that. He was going to do it even though he knew the right way. It would just happen, and he would not be able to stop himself.

_No! I can do this! Press and throw!_

He couldn't even throw a _grenade_ properly. Italy tried to remember one time when he'd held the pin and thrown the bomb. It always seemed to end up with the pin in the air and the grenade in his mouth, and then Germany would have an aneurysm and have to save him from having his head blown off.

And if he couldn't do that, how could he possibly throw this? He would undershoot, he would overshoot, he would drop it, he would put it in his mouth and swallow it for no reason at all...

Then he looked down at the hall and saw the Proeliites turn around the corner.

There were about six of the broad-shouldered, thick-muscled kind, the kind with green skin and long, dangling fangs. But there was one other that didn't look like the rest. It was thin and tall and nothing dangled from its mouth at all. It _almost_ looked human...

... _almost_...

Italy held up the button camera. _Pressandthrow, pressandthrow_, he kept repeating. _It's simple..._ But it somehow _wasn't_ simple. There was some giant muddled up brain block keeping him from pressing and throwing. It made him want to throw the camera in the wrong direction, or put it in a pasta dish, or something else entirely useless. He knew _he_ was entirely useless. It was what Germany had always told him...

But if he missed his chance... Italy squeezed his eyes shut and held the camera out at arm's length. _Press and-_

Italy cracked his eyes open and then felt his muscles freeze. The Proeliites had halted, and the thin one held its hand out into an open doorway. When the hand reemerged, the metal spider-bot was astride it. The thin alien said a soft, whispering word and then two of the hulking drones entered the door.

_That was the door Germany went through!_ Italy thought it a panic. _No... they can't have... he's too strong... too quick... too tough..._

And then the two drones were returning, and they had a third shape dangling like a rag doll in their arms. Italy's throat closed to the size of a straw.

The thin Proeliite inspected the limp Germany, and then nodded to the drones. They began to drag the body (_was_ it a body?) away, and Italy found his fingers going numb at the sight of it.

Unnoticed, the camera slipped from his hand and bounced - _tap, tap, tap_ - down the slope of and over the side of the dome.

Only the thin Proeliite seemed to hear the _click_ of the tiny device hitting the floor. It (he? she?) turned, reached down, picked up the device, considered it. Then the creature lifted its head calmly to look at Italy, who stared back at it in horror.

It had eight red eyes across its face, just like the others.

For the first time that he could remember in all his life, Italy longed for a weapon in his hand. He wanted a gun, and in his dizzy fury he felt sure that he would be able to use it for one. He wanted to climb down and smash in the calm, sneering, disgusting face, with his bare hands if he had to. But all he could do was struggle in his bonds, too shocked even to cry out his friend's name, bound in place by the hated white flags of surrender.

The thin spider-person made a hideous rattling noise that sounded all too much like a laugh, and it turned and strode away, leaving Italy with tears of childish powerlessness running down his face.

After some time had passed, Italy had managed to untie most of the knots. He huddled as far into the alcove as he could, watching his hands tremble like dust particles on a beaten drum.

"_Italy...?_"

One word swam to the forefront of his mind. _Doctor_.

"_Italy! Germany! Are you all right? Did anything go-_"

"They got him,"Italy said bleakly. His voice cracked. "They got him. They took him away..."

"_Don't you dare try anything,_" the Doctor ordered, but his voice sounded so distant. "_Don't go after them, don't move... I'm going to help, I promise. Just tell me everything that happened. No... don't. It's not important. Italy? Italy, can you hear me?_"

"I can hear..." He focused, with difficulty, on the Doctor's voice. "Doctor, help him. Help him, please. He wasn't moving... veh... he wasn't moving... was he dead...?"

"_Just hang in there! Don't move! I'm on my way!_ _Do you hear me? I'm coming for you, and we're going to save him. I promise you that. You understand?_"

"_Si_," Italy breathed. He wrapped his arms around his folded knees and shivered. "The Doctor is coming," he whispered to himself, trying to stay calm. "Don't you worry, Italia. The Doctor is coming. He _promised._"

* * *

><p>In the spire, the Doctor stood up and threw off his headset.<p>

"_Hakasu!_" Japan said, alarmed. "What is the matter?"

"Italy says Germany's been taken... I've got to go help." The Doctor's eyes were wild. "You stay here. You can handle this. I've got to... got to..." He tripped out of his seat as he tried to reach the door.

"You must think this through!" Japan begged, spinning his chair around to face the Doctor as the Time Lord backed away, moving for the exit. "We _cannot_ simply rush into action. _Doitsu-san _will not be any safer if you act rashly-"

But even before Japan could finish, the Doctor had already gone.


	13. Jealousy, Pt 3

**AN: The thin Proeliite makes an appearance again in this chapter. Now, before anyone gets confused, the alien doesn't act the same all the time. When he meets different nations, he assumes different personalities. Some of you might have figured this out without me telling you, but I'll just tell you anyway, because I don't want anyone getting distracted by it.**

Germany dreamed that he was a very long time ago.

It was during World War Two, to be exact. There was a bright Mediterranean sun hanging in the cornflower blue sky, and the air was warm and sweet. Germany couldn't find time to appreciate it, however. He was headed for Italy's house, and he could not delay. That lazy nation was late for training again. No doubt he was lying in bed, fast asleep, dreaming of pasta or pizza or perhaps both. As he reached the villa, Germany marched up the front steps and pounded on the door with one black-gloved hand.

"_Italy!_" he bellowed. "If you do not come out of zere zis _instant_, Italy, zen you vill regret it!"

Not that he'd expected an answer. Italy probably wouldn't stir if a herd of inebriated elephants trampled through his room, so Germany's shouts were about as good as white noise when it came to waking Italy up. Unfortunately for Italy, this was only Plan A. Germany rounded the corner of the house and made his way to Italy's bedroom window, which Italy always forgot to latch.

The view through the window was not what Germany had expected. Italy was in his bed, but instead of lying curled up, with a healthy, sleepy glow on his skin, the nation was stiff and straight, and he looked very pale. And, there was a man sitting on the chair by Italy's bed.

"You don't want to fight anymore," the man said gently. He was wearing a simple blue suit, and he sounded like he came from the British Isles. Germany stared at him in shock. What was this English man doing with a member of the Axis?

"I don't want to fight anymore," Italy repeated blankly.

The Briton shifted and put a hand on Italy's forehead. "It's always easier to just... surrender, isn't it?" the man went on.

"Yes..." Italy nodded, shivering. "Easier to just surrender."

"Do you want it to end?" asked the man. He sifted his fingers through Italy's hair, and the nation rolled over and wrapped his arms around the man.

"I want it to end," whispered Italy. He clung to the man for a few seconds, and then put his feet down on the floor and stood up. The man rose, too, and he was so much taller than Italy that the nation looked like a child next to him. Italy hugged the man's waist. "Will you take me with you?"

The man smiled down at the little nation fondly. "Of course I will."

Germany, who had been at the window the whole time, suddenly felt a rising dread. He thumped a fist against the glass. "Italy! Vait!"

The nation turned his head to look at Germany, and the only emotion in those chocolate brown eyes was mild puzzlement. "Germany is here?" he said.

"Vhat are you doing? You... you are missing training!"

Italy slowly approached the window. "I know," he said, his voice lacking its usual chirp. "Veh, you shouldn't worry about me. I'm going to be fine."

"I..." Germany's heart was racing. Something bad was going to happen very soon, he could tell. "Vhat do you mean, you're going to be fine? Vhy shouldn't I vorry about you? Let me in, please!"

"You don't need to worry about me because the Doctor's going to take care of me now," Italy told him, smiling. "Veh, goodbye."

"Wait! Please! Don't do zis!" He had to do something... he had to do something _now_, before it was too late... "Stop! Italy, _ich_-"

Italy reached out to either side of the window and pulled the curtains shut.

On the other side, Germany sank to the ground, breathing hard. "_Ich... ich liebe..._ d- oh, _gott_, no... Italy... _ich liebe_..."

He couldn't even say it.

* * *

><p>Germany didn't immediately open his eyes after he woke up. While later he might have been able to explain the tactical advantages of doing this, especially when one has been taken hostage, the real reason behind it was that, as soon as he did wake, a childishly stubborn part of him wanted to be as uncooperative as possible. It took him a few moments to remember why.<p>

He felt thick ropes wound around his whole body, except they weren't very much like ropes he was familiar with - they were sticky and smelled strange. They also seemed to have plastered him to a kind of net, and he could feel the strings humming with faint movement, like it was a harp someone was plucking.

Something horrible and prickly crawled over his chest and then another one went down his leg, and right at that point was when he couldn't take it anymore. Germany's eyes shot open, and then he wished he'd kept them closed.

In a second the oddness was all explained. The net was a huge spiderweb, and the things making their way over his body were, to his great dismay and disgust, more of the spider-bots. His leg jerked out of an innate reflex as he tried to kick the things off himself. But the web was too tough. In fact, it was unnaturally tough, to be able to contain Germany's own unnatural strength.

Not bothered by the sudden movement, the spider-bot continued to wrap more strands of web around Germany's leg, covering his shin with a tight cocoon.

The nation shuddered just a little as another creature made its way along his arm. But _only_ a little. Torture was torture, and he could stand it. Using spiders, he felt, was sort of gross, but not that painful. Yet. He didn't know what else these constructs were capable of, and was sure he didn't really want to know, either.

"_Achtung!_" commanded a crisp, guttural voice. "_Du Land, du Mensch, du Mann von der Erde, erwachen!_"

_You nation, you human, you man from earth, awaken!_

Germany's head shot up. He was not so much startled by the fact that the words were in his language (from his perspective, nearly every word thus far had been), but by the perfect, untainted accent, and by the fact that the voice almost sounded like his own.

"Good!" said the voice sharply. "You will not pretend to be asleep! You will not attempt to escape! You will not disobey! Do you understand?"

This infuriated the nation. "You think you can _order me around?_" he shouted, struggling against the webbing. "_I am Germany! _I am not some common soldier! I am an autonomous nation, and _you are not my leader!_ It may be zat I don't know who _is_ right now, but it _isn't_ you, so you can take your orders and put zem-"

"You have no option _not_ to obey," the voice pointed out. "Strand for strand, spider silk is far stronger than rope, or leather, or steel cable. So you could not escape if you tried. And you will not pretend to be asleep because I will know you are lying."

"If you zhink you can force information out of me zen you are wrong," Germany said through clenched teeth. "I can vithstand anything zat you or I or the Devil himself could zhink up."

"_Korrekt!_ This is why I do _not_ plan on torturing you. That would be pointless. When you attack an enemy at his strongest defense, you exhaust your resources and your time. What would be a better plan? _Antworte mir!_ Answer me!"

Germany tried to locate the speaker. The room was mostly dark, and large enough that there were echoes preventing him from finding the origin of the voice from sound alone. He was an indeterminate distance from the floor, far enough for it to be frightening but not so far that he would overshadow his interrogator. "The best plan," Germany said, reluctantly playing along, "vould be to simply attack his veak point instead."

"That is entirely true. Now, then, what do you think your weak point is?"

The nation was silent.

"Don't be stupid. _I_ still know what it is. If I had not, then I would already be torturing you. But, do _you _know it?"

As far as Germany could tell, the speaker was moving. He squinted through the dark, trying to catch any shifting shadows. No sign.

"What is your weak point, Germany? Do you know?"

He felt a sudden snag in his throat as he realized what the speaker was asking, and what the answer had to be. "I... I suppose it vould be... Italy."

As he thought about the implications of this, Germany felt a dark kind of rage settle in his chest. He took an angry breath, about to tell whoever was down there _just what Germany would do _to him if he _dared_ lay a finger on the other nation, and it involved hellfire and slow torture of the most grisly and explicit kind.

"Very insightful of you," the voice told him, before he could speak. "Though I suspect you have come to terms with it long ago. But, insightful or not, it is _not_ the correct answer."

Germany felt a mix of relief and dread. Did that mean Italy was safe? But then, if not Italy, what was it?

"It was _close,_" continued the voice thoughtfully. "But it was still wrong, at least in terms of the way you meant it. Of course, I've found that no one ever knows one's own greatest weakness. The act of knowing lessens its power over you, doesn't it? Even if you don't want to admit it, at first. Even if it feels wrong, or perverse, or..."

The nation stubbornly was silent. He knew what the voice was talking about and he wasn't willing to concede _that_ much. Not out loud.

"So then," the voice continued, its snap and edge returning, "You must be wondering why you are here, if it is not for torture, whether mentally or physically. Do not answer that!" the voice barked. "If you are not wondering that then you are either very stupid or very distracted! And if you were not wondering then, you should be now. So, are you going to ask or will we simply wait here until one of us drops dead?"

_What...?_ Germany thought. _Zer hell does that mean?_ "Er... vhy am I here?" he asked cautiously.

"To _learn._" And saying that, the speaker flicked on a set of lights.

The speaker looked like a man. He was tall, and was far less muscled than Germany, but there was still a slight physical resemblance between them. He was wearing very simple but formal Earth clothes that had a hint of a military cut.

He _looked _like a man, and yet there was something very off about what Germany kept seeing out of the corner of his eye, and he couldn't quite place it.

"To... learn," Germany repeated blankly. "Learn vhat?"

"I want to tell you about someone that you have recently encountered," the man (was it a man?) said, with no outward emotion in his voice. He could have been lecturing at a university hall. "I want to tell you about the _Herr_ Doctor and his people."

"A _history lesson?_" Germany was strangely offended by this. "Zis is useless! You should be trying to _kill_ me. I vould kill you if I had zer chance."

"What use would that be? You're replaceable. And it is not my intention to kill you, unless you continue to be in my way. I'm not trying to take over your planet, you understand."

"You're _not? _Then... who are you?" _What did he mean, replaceable? I am a national personification... there is no replacing them!_

"No. I am trying to take it _back_. And then, of course, return it to its rightful owners," the man added piously. "I am merely a... concerned citizen."

"Take it _back?_ From whom?"

The man... but, not a man, really. He _wasn't_ human, even if he looked like one. Just like...

He gave Germany a long, baleful stare. "From who else? From the Doctor." The man raised his hand and snapped his long fingers. Suddenly there were spiders swarming everywhere around him, dropping down from the ceiling on their thin threads. Then they began to cross paths, swinging back and forth, weaving a hanging frame in the air. The thin man snapped his fingers again, and the space within the frame turned opaque, and became a black screen.

It almost escaped Germany's notice that the Proeliite had reached behind him and taken hold of a thread of web in the air.

"_LISTEN TO ME._"

Now, when the thin man spoke, his voice rang in Germany's head painfully, filling his mind and blocking his own thoughts out. He gasped in shock. "Vhat is zis? How can you-?"

"_Tell me about the Doctor_," said the thin man's voice in Germany's mind. "_Who is he?_"

Germany grimaced and tried to think around the ringing in his head. "He's... he is a warrior..."

"_Wrong._"

The pain was worsening. _But... he said he wouldn't torture... _Germany bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming."He is a healer... a helper..."

"_Wrong! Wrong! You know nothing! He is the last of the Time Lords! And THIS is what the Time Lords are!_"

Images began to appear on the screen of cities and deserts and star-filled space. The man's voice was a little quieter, less abrasive. "_More than ten million years ago they founded their society on the planet Gallifrey. No one knows where they came from - they kept that secret to their grave. But they soon made a name for themselves in the galaxy. Because the planet had... special properties._"

On the screen, the picture changed to show a mountain, and in the side there was a long, jagged rift. "_The Untempered Schism. A hole in the fabric of time and space, ripping right into the Time Vortex and letting the energy spill through. It gave the people of Gallifrey knowledge of past, present, and future. It gave them sight into causality and the fourth dimension. And it gave them the power to entrap and grow living machines that could travel anywhere, anywhen._"

And, once again, the voice rose to an unbearable volume in Germany's thoughts. "_And, it made them believe that they were the masters of the universe._"

Germany couldn't stop watching the screen. The images were pouring into his mind, and burning into his memory.

"_They became the ultimate authority in all matters. Any species that refused to agree to their Shadow Proclamation was targeted as enemies of order, and yet the Time Lords abused their power. In the early days, there was the Death Zone. An arena where species fought one another for their own amusement._"

"But.. not anymore..." It was an effort even to speak.

"_Not anymore... perhaps. But they continued to expose their children to the Untempered Schism up until the very end. They drove half their population mad from the age of eight. They made their children look into the eternal. Their minds broke, one by one..._"

Now faces began to appear on the screen. "_Omega. Creator of time travel. Attempted to destroy his own people. The Meddling Monk. Repeated infractions in causality. Lord President Borusa. Used the Death Zone to try to gain immortality._"

And the names went on and on, and their crimes grew worse and worse... and more and more... _familiar?_

"_The Rani_." The face on the screen shifted to a woman's. "_Unlawfully performed medical experiments on what she called 'lower races'. Censured by the Time Lords, but allowed to stay at large. They let her continue... no doubt her research had use to them..._"

Germany tried to shut his eyes and found that his body was not responding to his will. "Zis does not mean zat zer Doctor-" he tried to say.

"_THE MASTER,_" thundered the voice. "_Slaughterer of millions. Megalomaniac. Recruited again and again by the Time Lords for their own purposes. Resurrected during the Time War as the perfect warrior. Most recent activity..._"

On the screen, the face became that of a young, handsome, brown-haired man with a childish smile that was tinged with madness.

"_... elected Prime Minister of Great Britain. Murdered the entire English Parliament, and the American President. Decimated the population of Earth and converted the last surviving members of the human race into killing machines called Toclafane. He ruled Earth for a year, until the paradox caught up with him and destroyed his own constructed timeline._"

The things that the man had begun to show on the screen were too horrific for words. Germany tried to shut the images out, and yet there was some part of him that kept whispering, _You know all about_ _this sort of thing, don't you? Don't you... Germany...?_

_NO! That's not who I am anymore! That person is gone... forever!_

And thinking that, it made what he was seeing and hearing all the more real. All the more despicable.

"_The Master and the Doctor were very close friends,_" whispered the voice. "_Inseparable as children. And there's still some of that in him._"

"But... he's helped us...!"

"_Helped you? How do you know this whole situation hasn't been his own creation? Who benefits from this? How silly! Creatures that live off of war... but who really benefits? If the Doctor saves you all, if he gains your trust... he will have control of the most powerful nations on the Earth. He already rules Great Britain. And now he wants to take the rest of you!_"

"He is not like zhose others! He is not like zem!"

"_Oh? Really? Do you want to know why he is the last Time Lord, then?_"

Germany tried to shake his head. It was getting hard to see. His eyes had begun to water from being open too long.

"_It's because he killed them all._"

The statement struck like a great anvil falling from the heavens and knocked the nation speechless.

"_And you think your history is bloody? The Doctor is guilty of genocide many times over. His own people were one. My cousin species, the Racnoss, were another._ _They had left the last of their young in the center of the Earth to grow. When the time came, they were to emerge. But they posed a threat to the Doctor's precious Earth because of their hunger. They were only children, Germany. He didn't try to help them, to find them a better home. No, because his people had already destroyed most of the Racnoss. He finished the deed. Do you know what he did to the children, those hungry, frightened children?_"

"I... don't... know... Stop zis... stop telling me..."

The whisper in his mind vanished and the voice he heard came from outside, from the man. It sounded so very far away.

"He drowned them."

Germany sagged in the web, drained. Every so often his mind flared up with some strong emotion, like horror, fear, anger, or dread, and then it died away.

"Yes, he drowned them. They had only just hatched... So, _that_ is the man whom your Italy idolizes. He must have a thing for mass murderers, _ja?_"

The man _really_ didn't look like a human now. Every time Germany wasn't staring directly at him, he saw eight eyes, and a pinched, beak-like mouth. "_Guten nacht, Deutchland_," it said.

And, like a ink-clad dragon had swallowed the sun, Germany's vision eclipsed into black.


	14. Rage, Pt 1

**AN: At last! After such a long wait, here we are! And, I've changed the way I transcribe accents. After this chapter goes up, I'll go back and redo the rest of the story.**

The Doctor was, once again, running.

And, strangely enough, he liked it. Just enough to get his blood moving through his binary cardiovascular system, pumping up the double-time pulse and sending jolts through his body like shots of pure caffeine. He hadn't gotten the chance to stretch his (very long) legs since holing himself up in that spire with Japan (who, mind you, was a very nice fellow) but still...

He didn't want to complain that he'd _let the nations have all the fun_ since he was sure that they weren't having fun at all, but even though he didn't _want_ to think it, he did.

Because, really, there was no pleasure in being the one in control of everything. It was all too full of guilt and second-guessing, and...

... _this _was full of excitement and open spaces (just look out a window!) and danger and peril and running...

Unfortunately, it was also full of danger, peril, et al.

He had to watch his step a little as he ran because he had to keep his eyes on the map the whole time. The one he'd been able to get wasn't equipped with communication, only constant updates as the Proeliites moved through the ship. Which was very useful, but slightly aggravating, as ignorance _is_, in fact bliss.

For the third time he found that his route was running straight through a group of Proeliites, and so that meant (what time was it?) _Detour Time!_ which was a bit annoying and all that, because it was nerve-wracking to try and figure out a new course while other people caught up with you. Sort of like playing Tetris when you only have a little bit of space left. And then when you lose, you die.

In other words, just like the usual day in the life.

The Doctor turned around in a careful circle and then sped down another hallway.

It wasn't too much more of this until he found that he had reached his destination, or at least the map told him that was the case. "Italy?" he called, spinning on a heel. "Are you there?"

"Veh... Doctor! You're here!" Italy's frightened face appeared from over the edge of the dome - it really was strange architecture. The wall opposite the windows curved up and became part of a massive bubble that just ran tangent to the ceiling. Beams and girders were laced all over the canopy of this, making it a veritable jungle gym.

... the Doctor made a note of this in his mind. It was _designed_ for climbing... and the Proeliites never did anything by accident...

But there was Italy, alive and looking scared but now more hopeful than the Doctor would have expected.

"Well, what're you doing up there?" the Doctor called, relieved. "Come on down, you!"

"I... ah... eee..." The nation clung to the ceiling a little tighter.

_Like a cat up a tree, _the Doctor thought. "Right, those _are_ vowels," he said dryly, "Well done. 'O' and 'U' and sometimes 'Y'... aw, don't be _scared_, Italy, just come down the way you got up, all right?"

Italy suddenly contracted into a ball. "It's too high!" he squeaked, in a kind of determined surrender. "I can't do it! Veh, I'll fall..."

"I'll catch you," the Doctor said calmly. "Don't make a fuss, Italy. You've got to get down so we can save Germany together, isn't that right?"

The red head shook vigorously back and forth. "But... I'm probably just going to mess it all up anyway like I always do and you'll have to save me too and I'm just a useless coward anyway and you're so clever and..."

"Italy..." the Doctor tried.

The nation sounded like he was working himself up into a fit of hysterics. "And nothing I do ever comes out right except drawing and I can't even throw a grenade properly and I couldn't stop them from taking him away..."

"Italy, listen to me."

Eventually the red head reemerged.

"You're not useless, I swear. I need people like you... There's something about me that you ought to know," the Doctor said. He beckoned. "Come on down and I can show you."

"It's too high!" repeated Italy, sounding less sure. He edged closer to the ridged wall that he had used to get up in the first place.

"Don't you worry about that," the Doctor reassured him. "I'm right down here. I'm stronger than I look, you know. Come on. I'll catch you if you fall, I promise." He held out his arms and patted his chest.

The Doctor sounded so sure of what he said that Italy found himself climbing down without hesitating, although his hands did shake a little. Near the bottom of the wall, he let the Doctor help him down.

"See? Not so bad, eh?"

Italy shook his head shyly. "Not really."

The Doctor snorted. "As a matter of fact, it was _quite_ high, _quite_ slippery, and _quite_ dangerous." He shook his head, both admonishing and admiring at once. "Just look at it! Could have broken your neck!"

"I... huh?" Italy hadn't expected to hear that.

"You climbed down from all that way just because, what? You knew _I_ was there?" He made it sound like a very silly thing to have done. "Skinny old me?"

"Um. Yes. I guess."

"_Exactly_," said the Doctor, pleased. "That's what I am, every time. When you're brave, it's because you know there's something stronger that will back you up if you have to - your god, your values, your friends, your future, your place in the world. Or," he added with a wink, "you _think_ there is. Neat little bit of misdirection, bravery. And that's what I am. The faith in a leap of faith - that's me." He patted Italy's shoulder. "Important to remember that. So then, do you need me or do I need you?"

Italy swayed unsteadily. "What?" he asked, confused.

"Ah. Right. Bit too metaphorical there..." The Doctor took Italy's hand. "In other words... _Allons-y!_"

Then they ran.

* * *

><p>In the spire, Japan was listening to his communications link with France, China, and Russia. His forehead was knit tight in concentration and deep thought.<p>

"Are you sure?" he asked abruptly. "Are you absolutely _positive_ that's what..."

The voice at the other end responded in a brief flurry of staticky words. It sounded like someone was shaking the paper.

"These computers have access to all this ship's," said Japan after the speaker was done. "If one only knows where to look for it, and how to interpret it."

A crackle and a few words.

Japan nodded. "Thank you. I will do my best."

He turned in his chair and faced the other monitor, and quickly typed in a string of characters.

"How strange," he said to himself as he did so, "that I should be able to understand their language when I have never encountered such aliens before in my life."

* * *

><p>The Doctor skidded to a halt. "Did you hear that?" he said sharply, diving for the floor and pressing his ear to the porcelain surface. "Italy, did you hear that?"<p>

"That was my stomach growling..." said Italy uncertainly. "Veh... I think..."

"No, no, not _that_; I heard that too, and what kind of metabolism have you got there anyway? Hungry already?" He shook his head amiably, then returned to concentration mode.

"What did you hear, then?" Italy asked. "Why are you lying on the floor?"

"I'm _listening_," the Doctor said. "Listening to the noise... the funny noise... the echoey noise... the noise that _isn't a noise at all_..." He leapt to his feet and slapped his forehead. "Not a noise! A-_ha!_ Not hearing it, _thinking _it!" He ruffled his hair furiously, and then pointed at Italy triumphantly. "Psychic broadcasts! Oh, that awful alien jiggery-pokery, knocking about inside your head, but _you_ can hear it too, can't you? You _can _hear it, if it's what I think it is... go on, listen!"

Italy rubbed his eyes. "To what?"

"To the floor, of course, the spot right there! Tell me if you hear anything!"

He still looked bemused but Italy trustingly lay down on his stomach and put his ear to the floor. He glanced at the Doctor and made a questioning thumbs-up. _Is this right? _Seeing a nod, Italy grinned proudly and then did as he was asked - he listened.

After a moment he said, "I hear words... someone's talking... I don't understand what they're saying but..."

"You're _quite_ sure you can't understand?" The Doctor made this sound like a very important point.

Italy thought hard. "Nope!" he said finally. "Not a clue."

"Perfect," said the Doctor. "We've got the right spot, then. Right, now stand back, because this could be a bit dangerous." He shooed Italy out of the way and took out his sonic screwdriver. "Now all I've got to do is..."

The Doctor paused, and the scrutinized the tool in his hands. "What is this?" he demanded, as if affronted. "_You're_ not going to be any help here," he told it. "Get out of my sight, you." He tossed the screwdriver over his shoulder (Italy caught it with great reverence and proceeded to devour it with his eyes), and reached in his pocket. "_There_ we are. That's more like it."

He was holding a blowtorch.

"How did you fit _that_ in your pockets?" asked Italy mildly.

"Oh, come on. Bigger inside than out. Anyway, this thing folds up, see?" It did. Italy watched the demonstration, greatly impressed. The Doctor looked pleased with himself. "I came _prepared_ this time."

The Doctor took out his glasses and stuck them on his face. "Not just to look clever this time," he said. "Safety first." Then, he flicked the flame of the blowtorch on with a finger, aimed it at the floor, and then began to slowly trace out the beginnings of a wide, molten red arc. Sparks spat out of the incision.

"_Wow_," said Italy happily. "You do this kind of thing all the time, veh?"

"Yes." Then the Doctor frowned. "Well, no. Not with a blowtorch. That's rather new. But I like it. Do you think I should keep it?" he asked conversationally.

"Is this your map?" Italy held up the cel sheet.

"That's my map," the Doctor agreed. He had almost made a semicircle now, which he was squatting in the center of.

"Veh, are we in the middle?" Italy asked.

"Right in the middle," said the Doctor cheerfully, starting on the second half of the circle. "What about it?"

Italy tapped the page. "So, are we little clusters of red dots on there?"

"No, we're not on there. It only maps hostiles. Red dots are Proeliites."

"That's funny," Italy said, turning the map around and around. "I could have sworn that we were in the middle, but I guess I read that wrong. I thought the big clump of red dots was us."

"What big clump of...?"

"Right there..."

The Doctor's smile didn't falter. "Oi, Italy. Come stand over here, okay? You got my sonic? Yes? Okay, put it in my pocket." The Doctor shifted so that the nation could reach. "That's good. Now, I just have to tell you something that you're going to have to obey. Just do this one thing. Are we clear?"

"_Si_, sure. What is it?"

"Don't step out of this red ring. Don't do it. No matter what."

Italy was puzzled. "Okay... I'lll stay in the ring."

"Excellent."

Something in the Doctor's voice made Italy a little nervous. He looked up and then at the map, and then down the hallway. "Doctor," he said. His voice was more high-pitched than normal. "Doctordoctor_doctor_."

"Ah. Well, just remember what I said."

"That bunch of dots... they're right here!"

"Don't run away," the Doctor ordered firmly. "Stay right by me." He was at three-quarters now, and the blowtorch was beginning to really warm up.

"_They're coming! I see them! They're right here!_"

Feet tramping towards them...

"_Intruder, halt!_" hissed the burly green leader. "_Intruder!_"

"Almost there!" said the Doctor brightly.

"I surrender!" Italy wailed. "White flag! _White flag!_"

"_What are you doing?_" shouted the lead guard. There were about six or seven of them, but only one spoke. That one hefted its gun, and the others reached for stun batons from their belts. "_State your intention!_"

The Doctor looked up. "Oh," he said. "Welding. To be precise, welding a hole in your floor... you don't mind, do you?" He smiled cheekily, hefted the torch, and added, in a perky, sing-song tone, "Oh, look. We're done... Draw a circle..."

And as the group of Proeliites charged, the circle in the floor quite suddenly became a hole, which Italy and the Doctor fell through like a pair of stones dropped from the Leaning Tower of Jupiter.

Within seconds, their fall was broken by something net-like and slightly sticky. The Doctor caught hold of it but Italy bounced, down and further down until he hit a body midway.

"_Germany!_" the little nation cried, clinging to his friend. "Germany! Veh, veh, veh, you're alive! Say something, Germany! Wake up!"

Germany didn't move, or speak, or open his eyes, but he shuddered a little, like the air temperature had dropped violently.

"Oh, shoot," the Doctor muttered. "_Blowtorch_." He caught a group of web strands next to him and began to swing his way over the net to the two nations. "Italy! We've got to move fast! Look down!"

And Italy looked down. "Fire," he said blankly.

"Yes, quite a lot of it," confirmed the Doctor. "I expect this spiderweb is a tad flammable. So, you know, might want to hurry."

"What's wrong with Germany?" Italy exclaimed. "Why isn't he awake?"

"I dunno," said the Doctor. "Huh. Give me a wee second." He swung around and slid down the web so he was splayed out right next to the unconscious nation. Warily, he reached out and gave Germany a little slap on the head. "Wakey wakey," the Doctor said cajolingly. "C'mon, you. Don't nap now." He pressed a pair of fingers under the nation's jaw. "Pulse is... it's _slow_," he said worriedly. "_Way_ too slow... he's in some kind of stasis... but, what's maintaining it? Poison? A neurotoxin? Italy, pass the screwdriver." The Doctor swept the device over the nation, performing a quick, efficient scan.

"How do we get him out?" Italy squeaked. "How do we wake him up? What do we do?" He couldn't keep his eyes from straying down to the bottom of the web, where smoke was rising, and scarlet tongues of fire were licking the air, colored no doubt by the strange chemical content of the webbing...

"Calcium!" the Doctor cried. "Red flame means calcium! That's it!"

"What?"

"These webs have a high calcium content! And calcium... where do you find calcium, in the body? Bone, yes... _No_! Not just bone!" He leaned forward and touched his tongue to the web.

Italy watched this curiously. "Taste good?"

"No, it's disgusting, of course... hold on..." He concentrated. "Oh, no. They _can't_ be... but that would be _brilliant_..."

"What would be...?"

"They're sensor strings! More of them! The webs are the sensor strings, but they aren't just sensing movement, they're doing something else too, they're..." He reached out and pushed back Germany's blond hair right where it ended, on the point where his neck met his skull. "Italy, look at this, quickly."

Italy fumbled around on the net and eventually twisted himself into a position where he could see the spot the Doctor was pointing to. The skin was raised in a whitish, veined lump, and filaments - tiny, milky threads - dangled out of the tumor to join with the web around it.

"Nervous tissue," the Doctor breathed.

"Well, it seems pretty confident to me," said Italy.

The Doctor stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I said, it doesn't seem very _nervous_ to me, the way it's sort of... ah... wrapping around my hand..." Italy's voice was eroded with panic like a statue in acid rain, and it was at that moment that the Doctor realized that his arms had gone numb. Below the wrist it was slowly encasing itself in thread.

A slow clapping filled the room. "Oh, very good," said a half-familiar voice. "You just had to take that long to figure it out, Doctor. As always, my friend, you're simply not seeing the forest for the trees." The voice erupted into gleeful laughter. "Or the spiders in said proverbial trees."

"Shut up," said the Doctor, breathing hard. "_You're. Not. Him._ Don't you dare..."

"Or what? You'll whine about it?"

The Doctor shut his eyes tight and concentrated. "You're not..." His eyes opened. "Your eyes are red," he told it. "Bright. _Red._"

"Are they really?"

"You've got _eight_ of them _stuck around your head _in a neat little row..." the Doctor persisted, eyes screwed up from effort. "You've got _fangs_... you're a great big spider and you... don't sound... like _anyone_... that I know!" He gasped a little at the end of the sentence, but he was proud of his small victory.

"Congratulations," said the Proeliite, voice shifting to a smooth, almost synthesized monotone. "So you can see through the surface layer. It's not so great of a feat, you know... humans are just so very blind and you... you are very much like them, despite all the differences."

Absently, the Doctor gazed below at the rising red fire. "And you can make humans see whatever has them scared-"

"Not scared. Comfortable." The emotionless, chrome red arachnid eyes kept on watching without blinking or shifting. "People _want_ to see what makes the most sense, because they're _comfortable_ with that. They hear a voice they recognize, they see a face that almost could be theirs, or a friend's, or an enemy's... it's simple enough to bypass the vision centers of the mind and replace it with what you expect. You do it in your sleep, as I understand."

"What have you done to Germany?" Italy yelled. "You... you _bastardo!_ Let him go!"

"What did I do to him?" the alien repeated. "I offered him a choice." His head turned to look at Italy, and then down at the fire that was creeping up towards the three men trapped on the web. He waved a hand and suddenly Germany's eyes opened, and the nation began to cough.

"Smoke..." he spluttered. "Is zhere fire?" He turned his head. "_Italien!_ Vhat... vhat are you doing here?"

"Oh. We're rescuing you!" Italy chirped.

Germany looked to the ground, where an inferno was raging. He looked at Italy, who was stuck fast to the web, and to the alien across the way, who was watching all this with seraphic calm. "Zis is vhat you call _rescue?_" he demanded.

Italy's face fell. "Well... the Doctor's working on it..." Italy wondered why Germany had looked so ill at ease, whipping his head around at the mention of the Doctor's name.

"In his case," the Proeliite went on, "it was a choice between bare truth and constructed fantasy. For Britain, it was something slightly different. But I am always offering a choice."

The Doctor raised his head and his eyes seemed to turn inhumanly coal-black, flickering with hidden fire, as he whispered, "_So am I._"

And the words echoed in the room. The Proeliite tilted its head. "What was that?"

"I said, so am I," the Doctor whispered. "A choice. Just the one, just like yours. And you know what?"

What...? the unheard whisper responded, in spite of itself.

His voice rasped like flint over steel... in a room full of hydrogen gas. "_Your choice is now._"


	15. Rage, Pt 2

**AN: I was going to post this earlier but was held up. Still, two chapters in two days. Not bad (makes 'not bad' Obama face).**

The Proeliite didn't flinch. "What can you do to me?"

"Do you want to find out?," asked the Doctor, eyes flashing. "Because you only get the choice _once_, and I'm giving it to you now. You leave Earth alone, and I won't try to bring you to justice. I won't touch you. You can go back to your home planet exactly as you came here. And if you stay, then I make sure that you can never come near this planet, or any planet, or any other living being... ever again. And you may think that I can't do anything to you now. But first of all, you'd be wrong, and second of all... know that when we meet again I will not show you _any_ mercy."

The Proeliite laughed in its rattling way. "You're bluffing," it said. "We're not going to meet again. You're going to burn to death right here and now."

And the Doctor, without once moving his blazing alien eyes from the Proeliite, called in a hard voice, "Italy? Can you feel your arms at all?"

"N-no..." whispered Italy. "They're all numb..."

"_Can you feel your arms?_" the Doctor repeated.

Italy struggled. "I can't! I can't feel anything! I-"

"Yes, you can," said the Doctor, as if stating an axiom of existence. "You can feel your arms, Italy. They're right there."

"I know they are!" Italy wailed. "It's no good! I can't..." He gulped. "No... wait..."

Germany was struggling to stay calm as the fire rose closer and closer to him. "Vhat are you trying to do, Doctor?" he said, anger and confusion getting muddled up in his voice. "Vhy are you-?"

"I can... feel my arms," said Italy slowly, puzzled. "They're... I can feel..." His eyes widened and he breathed in sharply. "_Aaahh-!_"

"_Good_," the Doctor told him. "Now, let go of Germany."

"But.. he's not holding on to me!" the other nation protested. "Vhy did you-?" Then he gasped, and arched his back as the tiny threads in his neck were yanked out by an unseen force. "Vhat is going on?"

And, against a colossal, glacial inertia, the web began to move. Germany looked at Italy in a panic as the cocoon of spider silk around his limbs unraveled, and he was forced to hold on to the sturdier threads lest he fall. The little nation's own bonds hadn't broken - if anything, they had increased, winding up his arms and melting into his skin. The strands glowed.

"How are you doing this..." the Proeliite hissed. "What have you done, Doctor?"

"Oh, no. _I_ didn't do anything..." The Doctor felt his own arms return to normal, and the webbing around his wrists loosened and fell away. "_You_ did. You were the one who linked up the whole structure to Italy's nervous system. But I suppose you thought _you'd_ be controlling _him_ then. Only you can't get inside his mind. You should have realized that... he's immune."

"_What...?_" The Proeliite took one step back, but a fiery strand of web whipped around him and blocked his way.

"That's right," said Italy suddenly. Germany and the Doctor both stared at him, shocked. His words still were edged with that perpetual childish cadence of his, but his whole demeanor had changed. "I _am_ immune. And do you know why?" He didn't look any different at first, but somehow the whole image of his being strapped to the web reversed itself. He wasn't bound to it - it was attached to him. The ends that were burnt away by the fire were coiling and moving like snakes with a will of their own - or was it their own?

One of them lashed out at the Proeliite, who dodged with uncanny speed and slammed his hand against the wall, setting off a siren wail in the chamber.

"Do you know why I can control it too?" Italy kept asking. "Do you know why?" Every now and then his voice cracked with rage, then eerily returned to its normal innocence. "Oh, I know! It's because you're a coward like me!"

A strand of web balled into a flaming fist and shot towards the Proeliite, but he leapt away again, and the wall was left with a huge dent.

"Italy!" the Doctor shouted. "Put us down!"

"You want to mess up our brains so you don't have to go up against our bodies, isn't that right?" Italy told the alien, as the web swung around and dumped the Doctor and Germany on the floor. "So you're a coward and I'm a coward and I can think enough like you so that I can move the web too, only, you know what's funny is that I have something you don't!" He waited as if for a response, and then screamed, "_I have a reason to be angry!_ And I am very, _very _angry right now!"

Germany watched in horror. This was not his Italy. This was something terrible, something dirty where Italy was pure, cruel where Italy was kind, something that was raw and full of rage and _liked_ it.

And then the doors opened, and a squadron of Proellite guard spilled through. "_Citizen! You called? Orders!_"

"Get them!" the Proeliite - the Citizen - shouted, pointing at the Doctor and Germany. "And _kill_ that thing on the webs!"

"Don't-a you _dare_ touch-a Germany!" Italy shrieked, and a tsunami of red flame came crashing towards the drones, swallowing them up. He flexed his many new limbs, sending fire flying through the room. "_Say-a hello to my little friend!_"

The Proeliites were retreating now, forming a protective wall in front of their Citizen, trying to shield themselves from the fiery whips. If Doctor Octopus and Spiderman melded somehow into a single being, then what you might get could be close to what was, at present, the anthropomorphic personification of the nation of Italy.

But they weren't just retreating. Germany saw the muzzles of guns being raised and immediately his fear of Italy became fear for him. "You want somezhing to fight?" he bellowed. "_Here!_" And with a great punch he sent the squadron toppling like bowling pins. One swung its rifle at him, but the blow was blocked by a tendril of web which caught the weapon and threw it away.

"Italy!" the Doctor called from by the door. "Italy, get out of there _now!_"

"I don't know how!" Italy screamed back. His rush of adrenaline was vanishing now, leaving only panic and fear. The fire was very close to him now, almost licking at his boots. "I can't-"

"_LET! IT GO!_" Germany thundered. He swung around and delivered another massive punch, and another drone slammed against the wall.

Italy twitched, whimpered, and suddenly the threads released him. Then he was falling through the air and the flames, limp as a rag doll. Germany dove forward and grunted as Italy's weight slammed into his shoulders, but he didn't let go. Italy clung to Germany, and without warning began to weep. "I couldn't stop!" he blubbered into the nation's shoulder. "I couldn't stop myself... Veh, I'm so sorry, Germany, I just couldn't stand being the coward all the time..."

"Zere's no time for zis now!" Germany exclaimed. "Ve have to escape before ve are killed by zis damn fire! Vhere did it come from?"

"A convenient blowtorch!" said the Doctor. "You know, it wasn't the most _thought_-_out_ of plans... come _on_, you two! This way!" He beckoned through the smoke.

Italy, who was now in a semi-catatonic state, refused to release his stranglehold on Germany. However, he did let himself be dragged to the exit by the stronger nation, bouncing along with little _veh, veh, veh_ noises punctuating every jolt. Somehow they ended up in a place with no smoke, though he didn't really notice how. It was good enough just to be out of it.

"Italy," he heard the Doctor say. "Italy... are you okay there? Can you hear me?" He felt a hand on his temple.

"Do not touch him!" he heard Germany snap.

"What?" said the Doctor and Italy at the same time, equally bemused. The Doctor went on, "I'm trying to see if there's any damage from the fire and that psychic link he had to maintain all that time..."

Germany put an arm around Italy protectively, and he glared at the Doctor with blue glass marbles for eyes. "I do not vant you near him," the nation said flatly. "Go avay."

"No," said the Doctor in just as firm a voice. "I don't know what the Proeliite Citizen told you but I'm here to help. I'm the Doctor. I help people; that's what I do."

"I do not see how you are helping," Germany muttered. "You have made him into your soldier. I hope for your sake zat zer Italy I know is still alive in him somevhere."

The Doctor opened his mouth, swallowed, and shut it again. He could find nothing to say.

Germany shook his head angrily and then turned to Italy, who had slumped against the wall. "_Italien_," he said, in the gentlest voice he had ever used. "_Mein liebe_, are you all right?" He turned a little red - he hadn't meant to say it like that - but once it was out he found that he really didn't mind the way it sounded, in the end.

And it seemed that the trembling nation he was holding didn't either. "Veh..." whispered Italy, and then he crumbled into happy tears, clinging to Germany like a child clings to his favorite stuffed bear. "Yes, I'm fine now..."

For a long moment neither said anything, basking in a special kind of sunlight.

Then Italy sat back and asked, "What about you? Are _you_ all right?"

Germany hadn't expected the question. He started, and then collected himself. "_Ja_, of course," he mumbled.

"They had you stuck with those creepy web things, Germany..." Italy put his hand on the nape of the other nation's neck, right where the lump had been. He added wonderingly, "I _felt_ you."

"Vhat do you mean... _felt_ me?" Germany asked, worried.

"In my mind, when I was on the web... I _heard_ you... just for a second..." Italy frowned. "What happened to you when you were taken, Germany?"

Germany swallowed. "I... cannot remember," he muttered. "I do not know."

* * *

><p>The blue phosphorescent light of the command spire glinted off of the smooth skin and raven-black hair of the solitary, diligently typing occupant.<p>

It had not been long before Japan discovered that a simple algorithm was all that was needed to generate a search engine on the computer database, and that more information than he could have ever hoped was spilling out onto the screen.

He couldn't help thinking that the Doctor either hadn't been trying very hard to hack this computer... or he hadn't wanted to.

"Repeat that again," the nation said into his headpiece. He listened for a moment, and then placed his hands on the keys. "Birthing pods, you said?" He carefully typed out a string of characters. "What else?"

"_Somezhing about a download_," said France's voice. "_Eez zis right? Human genome archives?_"

Another voice muttered a confirmation.

"I'm conducting a broad search now..." said Japan, as his fingers raced over the keyboard. "The database has many mentions of 'birthing pods'... mostly they are describing production records... it does not make sense, but..." His screen was showing one of the compartments that he, and the other seven nations, had emerged from. It was unmistakably the same. The one that the Doctor had called a transport pod, that he had claimed had teleported them through time and space to this ship. There was no mention of that function here.

_Rapid-Development Lifeform/Memory Engineering Module,_ it said. _'Birthing Pod' - Version 3.2. _

The pod was described in very technical terms - clearly this entry was not designed for people to learn from, but to use as a reference. It was enough. Japan read the file twice, and then covered his face with his hands.

"_What does eet say about zem, zen?_" France asked curiously.

"Please wait one moment," muttered Japan into his hands. "I must focus." Reaching up, the nation removed his headset and laid it to one side, trying not to let his hands tremble. He could still hear, though faintly, the hiss of the open connection. It sounded like the whisper of sand leaking through the pinch of an hourglass and pouring into the bulb that held the past.

The stars outside the window were very small and did not shine from here. But there was a wonderfully spectacular view of the Earth. Far to the north, auroras shimmered. In the dark, the city lights looked like glowing webs. And at the horizon, Japan could see the thin, fragile blue layer of air that was the difference between life or death.

Normally he would be feeling a quiet pride at this moment, to see the world like this. But that would have been his pride to be a nation, a part of this living, interwoven system, and right now there was none of that. Because he wasn't part of it. He called himself 'Japan', but in truth he had never lived in Japan. He had only seen it once - and that one time was right now, from far above in orbit.

In fact, he had never set foot on Earth in his entire life.

The log showed, most recently, eight near-completed maturations initiated twelve hours ago. The genetic templates had been mostly human, but each was a conglomerate of tens hundreds of thousands to millions of genomes each, and in conjunction with this, the memory development processors had been keyed in to eight data files.

The files had originated from an outside computer with a foreign processor, and it took only one guess to find out what that computer might have been.

Japan realized that he was quite angry. In fact, he had never been more angry in his life - but then, his life had begun only twelve hours ago, not the hundreds of years he had thought. But in his false constructed memories, he could not find a time when he was this quietly furious. He remembered the helpless anger and agony when his cities had been burned, his people vaporized into light. He remembered the wild, savage anger that drove him to attack his neighbor China and slaughter his people. He had committed and been victim of the most heinous atrocities known to humankind, and in the end it was nothing compared to this. He had never been so personally attacked before. His nation, yes, but his own self...

Because he had been deceived. All of them had been. Their whole existence was a lie. A lie created by none other than the Doctor.

Japan turned back to his headset and picked it up. He did not normally act on impulse, but right now only one thing could be done.

He was going to tell the truth.

But he didn't notice the other screen, the one controlling the psychic network, which was beginning to blink. A loading bar appeared on it... _of its own accord_... and began to fill from left to right. The symbols below it would have read, if Japan had looked on it, _psychic connection self-lethalization initiated... standby for lockdown_.

No, Japan didn't see this, because he was too busy speaking into the headset through the maps to the other nations, in a hollow but clear voice. Japan was not one for anger, but when it came, it swallowed up everything in a cold fire. And he had _never_ been so angry as he was right now.

"Listen, all of you. Anyone who can hear me, you _must_ pay attention. There is something that you need to know..."


	16. Mistrust, Pt 1

**AN: I'm so sorry! I've been neglecting my writing! (weeps) Please forgive me. I've been trying to do too much and not do anything at the same time. Bad combination. Anyway, here is the next installment.**

"You _must _pay attention," the Doctor told the three nations, exasperated. "This is something that you _need_ to know!"

China snapped to attention, a notebook and pen mysteriously appearing in his hands. "I will take careful note on what you say, aru," he told the Doctor.

He looked relieved. "Well, _finally_..."

"Then I will ignore your advice and do it Chinese way," continued the nation blandly. "Also, if you say anything I disagree with I will not listen. So. Please begin."

The Doctor let out a stuttered breath of disbelieving laughter. "Now hold on one minute," he coughed. "Don't you think you should-?"

"I would prefer to make things do what I want by hitting them with pipe and then inventing brand new science if old ones do not work," Russia added, with a placid smile.

"That... doesn't usually solve anything..." the Doctor tried to say.

"As for _me_," said France, with a flip of his blonde hair, "I prefer to solve problems by convincing ozzers to help me instead of doing zhings myself." And he sounded quite proud of this, too. "Or by going on strike."

China huffed. "I think best strategy is to ignore problem until it go away."

"_And that's what put us in this mess in the first place!_" the Doctor suddenly shouted. "That's what humans always do! Ignore everything! We're trying to fix that! Which is why all of you need to be quiet, and listen to _me!_"

The outburst was met with dead silence. Breathing heavily, the Doctor tried to pull himself together a little.

"You know how in movies there's always a clock ticking down to zero?" he eventually said. There were a few robotic nods. "Because that happens to me a lot. Tends to motivate people." The Doctor gaze was pulled to the window, and the cloud-shrouded Earth. "When you don't know when something's going to happen, it's easier to pretend that it'll be later, instead of sooner." When he turned back his eyes were fierce and sad. "I don't know when the first bombs will fall, but it's going to happen. Soon. I don't which nation will be hit first, but it could very well be one of you."

There was more chastised, wide-eyed stillness from the nations.

"Fine," said China bitterly. "You win. I will listen, even if I don't want to."

"It is not so bad," Russia reassured him. "Sometimes it is good to hear other people's opinions."

This was so strange to hear from Russia that China stopped scowling and forgot to get away as fast as he could. "It is?" he asked.

"Of course," said Russia kindly, laying a hand on China's shoulder. "This is bright new idea of mine. If you are always right, then you don't have to worry about other opinions, since yours is the best one anyway."

"That almost sounds like something America would say, aru," snapped China, squirming as he tried to escape. "You are getting too soft."

In retrospect, China probably should have kept that last bit in his head, but Russia actually proved it to be true when, instead of doing something fearfully violent, he just smiled and said, "And you do not ever change at all, do you, China?"

"No," muttered China. "Silly Western nations think to draw history like a line, where there is no going back. It is wrong. History is always drawn as a circle, aru. Everything repeats eventually."

"_Actually_, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey... _say that again?_" The Doctor's eyes went very sharp as his tone changed from offhand to keenly interested.

China frowned, mouthing the words 'wibbly-wobbly' under his breath. "Er. History is always drawn as a circle, aru?"

"That's a funny way of putting it, isn't it? History is always _drawn_ as a circle?" The Doctor shook his head at China's obvious confusion. "Oh, never mind. Look at me wasting time after all I just said to you. Now, let's begin..."

"Are you all right, Doctor?" asked France.

The Doctor didn't really know what had struck him as odd, and if he couldn't explain it to himself it wasn't much good trying to explain it to anyone else. "Technically, I'm bilateral," he remarked.

France chuckled. "So am I," he murmured, edging closer to the Doctor.

The Time Lord raised an eyebrow. "I'm not too sure you know what that means," he pointed out. "But, okay." He coughed. "Let's get back to business, shall we?" He extracted an object from his pocket and unrolled it sharply. "This is your map," he began.

* * *

><p>About fifteen minutes later, the three nations emerged from the storage bay looking a bit dazed.<p>

"I did not know anyone could talk so fast in real life," commented Russia.

China looked woefully down at his ruined notebook. He'd tried his best. The characters started off neat, but grew sloppier and sloppier until it was just scrawl. Then, towards the end, he'd simply given up and drawn a portrait of Hello Kitty.

"Why are we still listening to that man?" China muttered angrily.

"You do not know?" Russia smiled ingratiatingly "Why do nations become one with Russia, then?"

"Aru?" China said, confused.

"Easy question," finished Russia. "Because they have no choice."

The point slowly sunk in. "No choice," said China. "Of course... but it would have helped if he talked a little slower, aru!"

"I did not understand a word of what 'e said," France agreed. His expression grew dreamy. "But such an attractive voice... ah, I could listen to zat man talk all day long... Such a sexy accent!"

"He talks like Britain does, aru," China said, his sharp tone pulling France down to Earth - if they _were_ on Earth, that is. "I thought you hated everything about Britain."

To China's surprise, France went pink. "I... well... zat's not..." He seemed to realize that he was blushing, and this confused him greatly. "Eez eet warm in here?" he asked distractedly.

"Actually, it's _freezing_," said China, blowing on his hands.

"Oh," France mumbled. "_Oui_, very cold." Eventually his normal self-assured manner started to reappear. "The Doctor eez not human," he said loftily.

"But you said his _accent_-" China persisted, and then yelped. "Aiyaa! Russia, what do you think you are doing, aru?"

"You said it was cold," said Russia innocently, drawing the Asian nation closer. "Just relax."

China looked like he was anything but relaxed. "I'm fine, aru!" he squawked. "We should not waste much time here, aru... aru..." Hiccupping his verbal tic, he dove for the map in France's hand and pulled it open very quickly. After shooting a furious, frightened glance Russia's way, China eventually managed to calm himself down.

"Zis eez us," France supplied helpfully, pointing at a spot on the map.

"I knew that," China snapped. "And we are trying to get to..." He stabbed a finger down on another spot. "Where we started."

"Looks simple, then... all we have to do is take this corridor and these stairs..." Russia leaned in over the others, tracing out a route. Then he stopped. "Oh. Red dots. That is not good?" A small cluster of points had just appeared on the map on the path he had indicated.

"Aliens," China clarified. "Not good at all. So we have to turn left here and-"

"Red dots," the others murmured at the same time.

"I think this will be more complicated than it looks," China observed. "Which way first?" He looked up from the map. "Where are you going, aru?" he demanded in surprise.

"This way is right way," said the disappearing Russia. "I have plan."

China angrily folded the map. "He has plan," he mimicked under his breath. "Oh. Good."

"And we have to follow him because...?" asked France skeptically.

"Why do nation become one with Russia?" China countered.

France sighed. "I see your point." Then he brightened up. "Well, as ze Doctor would say... _Allons-y_!"

"Yes, let's get a move on," China agreed, resigned.

"Zat was French," the other nation pointed out as they started after Russia.

"I know," said China. "You can stop being smug about that."

* * *

><p>The Doctor was ascending a tall spiral staircase with Japan trailing behind, clutching a bird's nest of wires and electronic parts that made the small nation look smaller.<p>

"Don't drop that," the Doctor said cheerfully.

"I promise I will not drop it, _Hakasu_," said Japan, not for the first time. "How much further will we have to walk?"

"Not much more, don't worry. But think about getting down, eh? If you sat on the banister there you could just slide... _whoosh!_" The Doctor twirled his finger in a descending corkscrew. "All the way down." He turned, taking the next few steps backwards as he faced the nation with a grin. "Can't wait for that."

Japan said, with dignity, "I would prefer to walk."

Shrugging, the Doctor faced front again. "To each their own, I suppose."

"We could not have taken the elevator?" Japan asked, indicating the transparent clear shaft that the stairs coiled around.

"We _could_ have," the Doctor admitted. "That's true."

"I thought we were trying to save time," Japan murmured.

The Doctor's expression was unreadable in a vaguely upbeat, knowing way. "Oh, I just thought... spend time talking, getting to know each other..." He waved his hand as if clearing away invisible smoke. "How's it feel? The air, I mean?"

Japan looked confused, but he said, "Like... air? It is far clearer than the air below, which was rather dusty. I wonder why that is."

"I wonder why," echoed the Doctor. "Yes, well, anyway... as I said, bonding time. So, what's your favorite color?"

Hefting the tangle of wires to keep a pair of circuits from falling, Japan began, "Oh. Well. I do not have much preference but-"

"_Lovely,_" the Doctor interrupted. "Mine's blue. Now, when you say _dusty_, what exactly do you mean by that?"

"Is this important?" Japan asked carefully.

Something in the Doctor's eyes betrayed the clarity and keenness of the thoughts behind them. "Maybe," he said, but in a way that said, 'almost certainly, yes.'

* * *

><p>China didn't trust anyone very much (and Russia was on the bottom of the list, as it happened). He found it annoying that, after they'd reached the large room they'd awoken in and started unraveling the Doctor's tangled instructions, both France and Russia seemed to think that to get this done, they all had to <em>cooperate<em> and _trust_ one another.

"It is all right, China," Russia was saying. "I already checked that one. It is broken."

"Well, I'm checking it again," muttered China. "None of us know how these transport things work, and _I_ have the notes."

"Then perhaps you could let me see them... no...?" Russia tried to take the pad of paper, but China hugged it to his chest protectively.

"_No_," he said vehemently.

"China! You are simply being unreasonable!" France protested. "You are far too much in ze habit of censoring zhings." He wrestled the notebook away from China.

"You can't read it, it's in Chinese, aru," the nation snapped. "Give it-"

"Of course I can read eet," France said mildly. He read, "_Ze first zhing to do: check pods to see if broken - try turning zem on._ Zat sounds reasonable."

"I did not know you could read Chinese," said Russia, with a quizzical look France's way. "Could I have a look?" He took the paper and studied it. "I did not know _I_ could read Chinese," he said, mildly surprised.

France thought this over. "Well, we have never had much trouble communicating before," he pointed out. "Nations do not have a language barrier, do zey?"

Russia turned the paper around, holding it close to his nose and at arm's length. "I can't remember. Do they?"

"Not really," China admitted. "But you still have to give that back, aru."

"No, I don't," said Russia. "Only if I want to." And then, to China's surprise, he held out the notebook anyway. "Here you go."

China took it slowly, with a very suspicious expression clouding his eyes.

"Zen... do we check the pods to see if zey are broken?" France suggested. "Possibly? _Non?_"

Eventually they all _did_ agree that there was some sense to just getting things done. At first they tramped along the rows of pods with a smattering of conversation breaking the quiet, and then they more or less succumbed to silence. It became a matter of efficient, practiced motions: _flip, click, click, flip, turn, check _and_ done_. Most of the boxes on stands next to each pod didn't have working screens anymore, so they had to be opened up, a hidden switch had to be pulled, and the reader had to check if any lights came on.

It usually didn't. Most of the pods seemed to be inactive or broken. Russia found the first working pod. "Green light!" he cheered, slapping the side of the glass proudly. "Hooray for me!"

This meant they had to consult China's increasingly illegible notes on what the next step was. It involved some of the strange objects the Doctor had filled their pockets with. There were wires and little boxes with wires poking out and pebble-sized crystals with tiny wires running through them, and boxes with holes for wires that weren't there.

Then came the part where the maps started talking to them, and that held them up for a little while. The Doctor had finally activated the communication feature, and checked in on them. France had flirted and China had tried to explain why he shouldn't be working in the same cohort as Russia, and the Doctor had listened to neither of them. At least they didn't have to rely on the old notes now.

China found the next two working chambers, because they were right next to each other. He had started to stray a little from the others (read: Russia) and was now almost out of their sight. It was even worth it to give France the notebook so that China could get away with excusing himself.

He reached in his pocket and removed a couple of stones. _Programmable inserts,_ the Doctor had called them. _Because just transporting someone is easy. We have to find them first, right? There's a lot of programming in them and all._ China reached into the box with the crystal (which was actually labeled, in tiny writing, _Canada_), but then froze.

He'd heard a noise.

"China, would you like some help with zis ozzer one?" It was France... China wondered if he could say, '_just_ France.' And his nerves were still jangling.

"Fine, fine, go ahead," China said gruffly. He let out a heavy breath, trying to calm himself down. It _had _been nothing, he told himself.

"You seem... a little tense," France observed, after a little pause.

China made a small, displeased noise in the back of his throat. "... keeps looking at me," he muttered.

"_Pardonnez-moi?_ I couldn't quite hear you..."

"I _said_, Russia is acting very strange and he keeps looking at me!" China hissed. "It is so creepy! Why doesn't he leave me alone?"

France shrugged. "Perhaps he eez..." For a moment he searched for a word. "... lonely?"

"I expect so, aru," said China. "Nobody likes him very much."

"Zen perhaps," suggested France, "he wants you to like him."

China looked scandalized. "Aiyaa! Why would he want that?" He shuddered.

"Why do you zhink?" France winked meaningly.

Thoroughly disturbed, China turned back to the box and the transport pod. It occurred to him that France always thought like that, regardless of reality, but it didn't offer much consolation. He watched France out of the corner of his eye. The European nation was inspecting a set of crystals in his hand, and putting them back in his pocket one by one. "What are you doing?" China asked. "Just put one in already, aru!"

"Wait... wait..." France fended China off with one arm. "Ah!" he said. "Seychelles. _Someone_ I like. All zese ozzer nations are too boring." He put the rest of the crystals back in his pocket.

This gave China the vague feeling that something unethical was going on, but he didn't care enough to comment. Besides, he was still shivering over the thought that Russia might have... taken an interest in him.

So when he heard the barely audible scraping noise again, all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and a shiver rippled over his skin. China spun around... and saw nothing. "What was that noise?" he whispered.

And something scuttled overhead, almost out of sight.

"I saw zat," said France in a rather more high-pitched voice than his usual.

Together, the nations lifted their eyes to the ceiling.

"I want to know _exactly_ what that was, aru," China breathed angrily. "Just what could be climbing around above our heads like some kind of stupid spider?"

France pointed a trembling finger. "Some... ah... kind of stupid spider," he told China. "Zat kind, I zhink. Exactly... zat... kind..." He swallowed. "Of spider."

The kind with metal legs and glowing red eyes and shiny, dainty pincers. The kind that was almost as big as a small dog, and not nearly as friendly. The kind that was lazily descending from the ceiling on a pearly thread, limbs moving over one another as if in anticipation.

The nations were almost hypnotized by the sight of it. Neither of them moved as the massive arachnid lowered itself towards them. China was still half-reaching into the control box of his pod, holding the crystal labeled Canada. He probably would have kept on standing and staring if he hadn't felt something tickle his hand.

Dreamily he turned, and he saw the second spider perched on his wrist, fangs raised up ever so slightly, preparing to strike.

Then the revulsion reflex kicked in. China's eyes widened and he shrieked, jerking his hand away as if burned. In his panic he stumbled back and tripped, and halfway to the floor he saw that the spider was following the hand like it was attached to it by a string - it probably was, he realized in disgust. At the same time France broke eye contact with the spider overhead to register what was going on next to him, and the hanging spider dropped onto his head.

There was a long moment of frantic, uncoordinated, high-pitched hysteria as the nations flailed about, trying to rid themselves of the spiders. Eventually motor control returned, and China, even though he was still twitching with disgust, flipped back onto his feet with ease and whirled his arm in a circle. The spider's weight swung at the end of the web for a second and then centripetal force ripped the roots of the silk from China's hand and hurled the creature away.

China didn't have time to see how France was dealing with his attacker because right then, the Asian nation felt a great force slam into his chest and propel him into the wall, knocking all the breath out of him.

Russia was standing where China had been a mere second earlier. In the next instant six or seven more spiders came flying out of the darkness and stuck to the tall nation like iron to an electromagnet.

_That would have been me_, China thought in a haze.

"Bad spiders," said Russia sharply. "No biting." He brushed them off his chest as if they were food crumbs. When one of them dove for his neck, he caught it and slowly crumpled it in his hand, like it was made out of tinfoil. "_Kolkolkol..._"

The remaining spiders abandoned their frightening target and went for China instead, leaping through the air in a very un-spider-like way (unless they were jumping spiders, which just about one thing too many). Clearly they believed the shorter nation would be easier prey.

They were wrong. China blurred. The first two spiders were batted away by two well-timed punches, and then the nation spun around on one leg and kicked a third so hard it sprayed sparks. He dodged, rolled, sprung up on his hands in a flip, and then his hand came whistling around like a sword blade to smack the next creature out of the air. Then his feet his the floor again.

"Behind you!" he shouted to Russia, who took the hint and ducked. China punched the spider as it flew towards him. He assumed his defensive stance once again. "Where is France?"

"Ah," said Russia, looking around. "There he is."

The poor nation was being swarmed by the spiders. He was trying his hardest to fight them off but his blows were weak and imprecise, almost sluggish. Russia strode over to him, picked him right off his feet, and then shook him vigorously.

Most of the spiders cascaded off France and onto the floor. Russia stepped on them as they fell, with much metallic screeching and spraying of sparks. But one hung on harder than their unfortunate fellows, and since he was still holding France, Russia couldn't move fast enough to stop the spider from darting up and sinking its fangs into his palm.

At the same time, China felt a sharp pain in his neck. He reached a hand up and it came back full of spider. Faster even than his thoughts could have planned, his hand shot into his pocket and came out with one of the pieces of machinery the Doctor had given him. It was long and sharp and then, in a heartbeat, it was sticking out of the spider's head. The red glow in the eyes faded.

China dropped the dead spider and ran over to the other two. "Are either of you hurt, aru?" he demanded. "Are there any more?"

It looked as though all France had suffered was emotional trauma, thought whether it was from being covered in oversize spider robots or being picked up and shaken by Russia (or both) was anyone's guess. He babbled incoherently in French as he was lowered to the ground, all other languages having been startled out of him.

Russia turned and put a hand on China's neck. "You are hurt," he said, his words slurring a little. His eyes looked out of focus.

"I don't... notice anything..." China muttered. "Aru... oh, _crap_."

Because Russia had taken one hesitant step towards China and then, slowly, like a felled tree, collapsed on top of him.

"Stupid... heavy... bastard... aru..." China groaned, his knees buckling a little. He braced himself, and cast about for France. "You could help," he said accusingly.

France made a 'hands-free' gesture and backed away. Of all the nations he would be quite pleased to make physical contact with, Russia was not one of them.

"Fine. I do it myself." Irritated, China hefted the larger nation up and started to drag him towards the wall. Halfway there, Russia began to stir. His amethyst eyes blinked open blearily.

"I pass out?" he asked.

"For a few seconds," said China, lowering him against the wall. "I think from the venom, aru. You were bitten."

"So were you," Russia pointed out.

China touched his own neck, and felt two puncture marks on a raised lump. "Oh," he said numbly. He wondered why he was still standing, why his vision wasn't blurring.

Russia examined his hand, where his bite wound was. "I think, perhaps... I am not as strong as I once was," he said quietly. He heaved a sigh. "Sometimes I am forgetting I am no longer Soviet Union. It is easier to get hurt, without satellites protecting me."

A previously unknown feeling seemed to be scraping around inside China. He only recognized it from diagnosis, not from experience. It was pity. China was not used to feeling sorry for other people, unless it was in condescension or lofty superiority. This kind of pity was different. It was far more personal... far more human.

He held out a hand. Russia took it, and China helped him to his feet.

"Well, we have at least got one thing out of that," Russia said as he stood.

"We learned that they have monster spiders, aru?"

Russia walked over to the creature China had stabbed. "We have this," he told them, picking the corpse up. "I am thinking I would like to take a look inside this one."

"You think you can find anything, aru?" asked China skeptically, crossing his arms. "All right. Go ahead."

Off to the side, France was still quivering and occasionally pushing a hand through his hair. "_Araignées..._" he muttered."_Qu'ils sont mauvais. Je pense que je les déteste tous._" He shuddered. "_Je n'irai jamais près d'une autre araignée dans ma vie._"

"You are still speaking French, aru," China reminded him.

"I have ze right to comfort myself," France said defensively. He sniffed. "I 'ave been traumatized. Ze sweet sound of my native tongue is ze only zhing zat calms me."

"I think you're overreacting," said China. "The phrase America might use is, 'drama queen.'"

"_Excusez-moi!_" France exclaimed, looking wounded. "Zat is most unjust!"

"You weren't even _bitten_," snapped China. "Get a grip on yourself, you fool."

**AN: The French part means: "Spiders... they are evil. I think I hate them all. I will never go near another spider in my life." In case you wanted to know.**


	17. Mistrust, Pt 2

The upshot, China felt, of letting Russia pursue his strange pet project was that it meant he was out of the way. Instead of bothering the others or terrifying them (because he could always do that, Soviet Union or not), he sat in a somewhat secluded portion of the huge room like a child with his tinker toys, picking the robot spider apart. He seemed to find it exceedingly interesting, or perhaps it was the simple pleasure of taking a dead creature and turning it inside out. Either way, his silence was broken by the occasional giggle or awed sigh.

This all gave China the strong impression that whatever superficial aspects of Russia might have changed, he still really was his same old semi-sane self.

During this short and blissfully eventless time, China was able to set up transport chambers for Poland, Australia, Greece, and Mali. He had never met Mali. China wondered a little what the nation would be like. This was all good until he found that one of his important alien instruments was broken. It took some nagging to get France to give up the map and the chance to talk to the Doctor, but eventually China explained his problem. The Doctor was very unhelpful.

"There are too many wires, aru!" China grumbled. "How am I supposed to remember which one go where? The blue goes where? In blue slot?"

"_No, the green one._"

"But that makes no sense!"

"_I don't care if it doesn't make sense. It's how it goes. Blue wire into green slot, red wire into blue slot, and so on... How does that not make sense?_"

"I do not see how," China muttered. "Why does red go with blue? Why not red with red? This technology is so pointlessly confusing!" Just like you, he added in his head. Just like everything that's going on.

This set the Doctor off on some tirade China didn't bother listening to, and then then it sounded like he was talking to Italy and Germany. Eventually he came back with, "_No, no, no. It's green to red and red to blue and don't touch purple or black. Simple, like I said._" Then he went back to his other conversation.

China hastily withdrew his hand from the box, letting go of the black wire he had been trying to tug out. "So I touched black one," he said, in tones of doom. "What happen if I do?"

"_You did what?_" the Doctor asked suddenly.

"Nothing." China stuffed the black wire back into the box. "Ah... what does green go to again, aru?"

From the corner of the room, Russia called, "Hey China... come take a look at this. It is something very interesting I would like you to see."

"Green to red to blue to yellow to white..." China muttered quickly. He fumbled around in the box. "All right, all right! Just one second! Green-red-blue-yellow-white... green-red-blue-"

Out of literally nowhere, Russia had appeared behind him, tugging at his elbow. "Chinaaa... this is _important_..."

"What come after blue?" China wailed, as he was dragged along. "You made me lose track, aru! Why can't you show France instead?"

"He is still not liking spider too much, even dead one," Russia explained. "I did not think he would be too much help."

China didn't think he liked seeing the dissected creature either. It made his skin crawl a little. "I won't touch that," he warned.

"You do not have to. Only look." Russia squatted down over the corpse. "And listen. You have map?"

"_I'm right here_," said the Doctor. "_So I assume he does. What's going on?_"

"Russia dissected one of the spiders that attacked us, aru," China told the map. "He is saying he has found something."

"Okay," said Russia. "I explain. First, these spiders seem to have robotic parts and living parts fit together. If you look at the eyes, you find cameras in them."

"So they use them for spying, aru?" China exclaimed. "Then they know where we are!"

"_They know and they aren't attacking... Japan, get Britain and America on the line! Tell them-_"

Japan's quiet voice interrupted him. "_I am sorry. They are not responding. I think the connection may have been lost._"

"_What? How-?_"

"But... that is not all I have found," continued Russia, patting the map as if to get its attention. "Please wait and listen. There is more. The spiders do not have silk glands, but they make webs still." In his voice was an edge of urgency it had never held before. "It is very strange," he said, "but the spinnerets look like they are attached to the spinal cord. It is the same tissue."

"_Nerve tissue_," the Doctor breathed. "_They're... sensor strings. The spiders make them... and they live in the walls and..._" There was a crackle of sudden noise as he shifted. "_Tell me if I'm wrong, but... the strands sort of prickle when you touch them, don't they?_"

"_Da_," Russia said slowly. "Why?"

"_Well, er, don't touch them, then,_" the Doctor ordered hastily. "_Sorry about that. I've a terrible feeling about this... one of those really bad ones like what cats get before an earthquake. Yes, I get those too. Makes my head itch._" There was a scraping sound. "_Really... really... itch... China, I'm going to ask a rather odd question. Just go with it, all right?_"

The nation looked apprehensive. "What is it?"

"_Does... does your head itch too, by any chance?_"

China's hand touched the back of his neck gingerly, without realizing it. "I... no. Not really."

"_No... Does it feel numb, then? Does the skin feel numb anywhere it shouldn't?_"

Again, the hand found the back of the neck, and rubbed a little harder. "If there was, it would be because you are making me think there is, aru."

"_Where do you think it is?_" the Doctor asked.

"Back of the neck," China murmured, and pressed a little harder on the spot, puzzled. Then he gasped and wiped his eyes. "What was that?" he exclaimed.

"You are all right?" Russia asked, concerned.

"For a second my vision went blurry... like I had crossed my eyes!"

"_Japan..._" the Doctor said, his voice fading out slightly. "_Could you... come here for a second? I need to see..._" Then he returned at normal volume. "_The back of the neck,_" he said. "_Right where the spinal column starts... that's either very strange acne or something quite terrible. Have I got one too?_"

"_You mean this star-shaped mark?_" they heard Japan ask. "_I am afraid you do._"

China felt something cold touch the back of his neck, and he nearly jumped out of his skin before he realized it was just Russia... although that was a rare sentence in the annals of history, China had learned something important on this mad adventure: there are things out there worse than Russia.

So he tried to stay calm and collected as he felt Russia brush aside his ponytail and touch the nape of his neck. He knew what he would hear, though.

"You have one, too," said Russia. "Little mark on skin. I am thinking this is bad thing."

"_It's the webs,_" the Doctor whispered. "_The webs are... that's how they've been shifting people's emotions, with the webs! The air felt dusty... so they must be everywhere, invisible... I thought it was something like a neurotransmitter, but I was wrong! No, no, no, this changes everything!_"

"What would the webs have to do with this, aru?" China asked.

"_They aren't spider webs! They're nerves! Like a giant brain spread out in the ship, and they can literally plug into your head! The drones, the spiders... it all fits! That must be how the drones communicate, how they order them around... they aren't really separate organisms at all. They're linked... the nerve thread, the webs... they can hook you up to the ship's network that the spiders make, but now they're using that network against us... which means they don't just influence you, they can control you! If you have enough thread, that is..._"

"So they knew we were here from beginning," said Russia. "Why not just kill us if they have the chance?"

The air had never felt as chilly as it did now. "They have plan too," China muttered. "And we are part of it."

"It's always been the plan," said the Doctor quietly. "You've been part of their plan all along... ever since I..."

"Where is France?" China suddenly asked. He twisted his head back and forth. "We have not seen him for a while... where is he?"

"_Hold on... there's something... wrong..._" On the other end of the connection, the Doctor's voice dimmed again. "_Italy, are you all right? What's going on?_"

China didn't hear the rest. He ran to the center of the room and looked left and right, all along the rows of pods and down the gloomy passages. "France, aru?" he called. Nothing. He tried again. "_France!_ I hope you are not doing anything indecent, aru!" Still nothing. "Doctor, I think France has gone missing!" China said anxiously. running back to the map and shaking the clear sheet. "Are you listening to me? What are we supposed to do now?"

"_China-san? What is going on?_" It was Japan speaking through the map now. "_What has happened?_"

"Where is that stupid Doctor, aru?" China demanded. "I need to tell him-"

"_I am so sorry. He got word from Italy-san that Germany-san was taken by the aliens and was very upset and left. I believe it is his intention to rescue Germany-san._"

"How rude and impulsive of him!" exclaimed China angrily. "Now two nations have gone missing and we have gotten nowhere! This Doctor is useless!" He threw the map on the ground in despair. "It is as though he is trying to get us captured, aru!"

"I think problem is that he underestimated enemy," Russia said. "He says he rescues planets all the time. I think he probably has hero complex, just like America."

"Either way, we should not have listened to him." China sank to the floor and covered his eyes. "This is not happening to me, aru," he said hoarsely. "This is not real. This is not real."

"China, please do not be upset. We are still alive. That means we can still fight, da?"

But China did not listen. "This is not real," he repeated. "This is not happening. This is not real. This is not happening..."

Russia shook the Asian nation by the shoulders. "Stop saying that!" he said angrily. "That is no way to act!"

But even Russia's anger couldn't break through, and he knew why. It was the old standby. It was censorship. China could put up walls against reality that blocked out almost everything. "Not real, not real, not real..."

"You are strong and powerful country! You cannot ignore what is going on!"

"_Not real! Not real!_"

The empty halls swallowed the sound without an echo.

* * *

><p>There was one thing that wasn't quite true, however, about how the situation looked. France had not gone missing. France had, to his mild shame, gotten lost.<p>

The issue was that all alien hallways looked the same. Endless rows of pods, curving grey support beams, rounded edges everywhere. Anyone who knows anything from movies and such can tell you that how easy it is to get lost on a spaceship. They really _are_ built like one reused set was multiplied into a maze of passageways. It's economical.

He had been wandering further and further away from the area they had been surveying. Of course, he wasn't _trying _to get lost. He just took one turn too many and then found that he didn't have a bump of direction after all. Not his fault. Nations didn't wander (excuses the pun) all around the map. So it wasn't as though he would have _known_ about this problem.

France huddled against one of the pods, trying not to think of spiders. He thought about retracing his steps and then wondered if that would get him even _more_ lost.

Part of him was yearning to simply throw up his hands dramatically, declare, "I give up!" and then curl up and vegetate until the world ended or didn't. But he had to try, if only to impress the Doctor...

... and every time he thought of that man, he had the strangest feeling that he had met him before, or someone like him. Someone he had cared about quite a bit, so it seemed. France wasn't used to _caring_ about people. Bluntly put, he cared about getting in people's pants. The rest of them was just packaging.

Not the Doctor, though. He meant more than that.

... he remembered loneliness... such loneliness... and an endless, frightening ticking...

... _what do monsters have nightmares about? Me..._

He found himself taking another turn into a new junction and his stomach flopped over and squeezed as he recognized the shapes on the floor.

They were human shapes, strewn about in various frozen positions, and they were frozen because they were dead. _Quite_ dead, even if they weren't actually decaying yet. He saw red blood splattered about if he looked hard, and though there was less of it than France had expected, it was not in the people's veins, which was the important thing.

This was definitely not the right way. He hadn't come this way before. France shut his eyes and covered his mouth and nose. It was too late, though. He stumbled back a few steps, and then threw up on the floor.

And there went his dignity. Poof.

"_Merci_," he said softly to the corpses, because it felt necessary. "I'm... so sorry."

There was a _click..._ and the glass cover of the pod next to him swung open.

France leapt back in shock, expecting clicking legs and red eyes to come pouring forth from the capsule, but instead he saw a uniform and a quite definitely human form.

"Who... are you...?" the soldier whispered weakly. The voice was faint but identifiable as having the lyrical quality of an English accent.

"_Moi?_ I am... I suppose I am..." France was at a loss for words. A staggering realization came crashing down on top of him. This was a _human_. Not a nation. An ordinary human... It was like talking to a single cell in your body - and having it talk _back_.

"How did you... get here...?" The soldier's eyes, two soft amber orbs, narrowed in confused suspicion, and then a red-streaked, dark-skinned hand twitched and moved towards a hip.

Immediately France's arms shot into the air in surrender. "Zat eez really not necessary!" he squeaked. "I mean no harm!" He put his hands behind his head. "See? I am completely harmless, believe me!" Which was, to his shame, entirely true.

The soldier blinked slowly and removed the hand from the pistol, hissing a little as the muscle moved.

France felt a twinge of sympathy. He stepped forward cautiously. "You are injured?" he asked.

"Well. Obviously," the soldier said hoarsely. France felt the corners of his lips twitch up slightly. He decided he liked this human person. Then, as he came closer, he realized something. That facial structure _had_ seemed a bit... feminine. A female soldier. How... intriguing.

"Why don't you show me where you are hurt, Miss..." France looked on the uniform for a name. "Oji-?"

With a shaking hand, the woman saluted. "_Private_ Anda Lolito, sir," she told him reproachfully. "Of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. And... the shirt's on... backwards..."

And, her voice trailing away into a thread, Anda Lolito slumped down in the pod. For a frightening moment France was sure she had just died, right in front of him, but then it became clear that she was simply too weak to hold herself up anymore. Gingerly, France stepped closer still, trying not to breathe through his nose or look at the blood on the private's abdomen.

"I zhink we had better get you to a... Doctor," France said, and he swallowed his disgust and lifted the injured woman up bridal-style. Even if he wasn't the most powerful country, there were benefits to being a nation, and one was having a fairly consistent reserve of strength that ordinary humans lacked.

"The Doctor..." whispered Private Lolito. "Tell me... _is he here?_ A man... with a blue box..."

"_Oui_, of course he eez," France reassured her. "And he eez a... _personal_ friend of mine." Hopefully he could find his way back and get to the map. Then the Doctor would be able to save this poor creature. But, there was the bit about finding his way...

On cue, he heard someone shout his name from far away. It sounded like China.

"Ah," he said. "Zat way. Do not worry, Miss... er... Private Lolito..." He looked down at the woman, and then turned his smile up all the way. She really was quite young and attractive. "Do you mind terribly if I call you Anda? Eet eez _such_ a lovely name..."

"Yes," said Lolito. "I do mind."

France sighed dramatically. "You Britons... you are all ze same. So very coldhearted and proper." But he let it go. It wasn't fair - she was badly injured and deserved to be treated with respect. France did have some sense of chivalry; he invented the word, after all.

And he followed the sound of China's voice back to the others with the... how strange to say it... _human_... in his arms.

**AN: I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE ALL THINKING! You're thinking, "Oh, look, it's an OC. _Yuck_. My Mary Sue senses are tingling. Now we're going to have to put up with this author avatar for the..."**

**Yes, I know the drill. OCs are annoying. They are. When handled badly. She's not a Mary Sue or an Author Avatar, don't worry. Don't wet your pants over it, my fellow Hetalians and Whovians. She's a very important plot device, that's all. (Think about this - if she was a Mary Sue, wouldn't she have a bigger role in the story thus far?) All right, so France flirts with her. He's France. He flirts with everything. Rocks. Trees. Bubble wrap. Literally, everything.**


	18. Mistrust, Pt 3

**AN: Many apologies for the delay. I had a... HUGE... thing that had to get done. It's like a nightmare week work-wise. Anyway, here, have a chapter. A long one. I love you guys too much to leave you hanging. (^3^)**

What eventually prompted China to uncurl his arms, open his eyes, and lift the curtain of denial around himself was the faint sound of footsteps.

It was fortunate timing. Russia had been seconds away from giving the other nation a hard slap in the face. He lowered his hand in relief. "You are not being unhelpfully stupid now?" he asked China hopefully.

"Who's coming?" China asked suspiciously, ignoring the question. He stood up quickly and searched his pockets for something that could be weaponized.

"What?" asked Russia, looking around. "Was there-?"

"Footsteps," said China. "I heard someone..."

"Oh, well. Zat would be me." France's voice came floating out from nearby, and then the nation himself appeared, partially obscured by the large object in his arms. "Nozzing too frightening, I assure you."

"You!" China exclaimed. "Where _were_ you, aru? Why you wander off like that? You could have been killed or... or worse!"

"Worse?" queried France, who was unaware of recent developments. "_Mon dieu!_ Zere are zhings worse zan death now?"

"Yes! Much worse! And... what the hell is that you're holding, aru?"

"Not _what_," explained France proudly. "_Who_. Look at what _I_ found..." He laid the bundle down and propped it up against the wall.

"AIYAA! What is that!" China yelled. "How gross!"

"Ah," said Russia, inspecting it. "It looks like one of dead bodies from the UNIT. I have question. What are you doing with dead body?"

"Zat woman eez not dead!" France protested. "She eez just badly injured! Can't you tell ze difference?"

After checking again and realizing this was true, China looked even more startled. "You brought back a _live_ one? What use is that?"

France drew himself up indignantly. "What _use?_" he repeated, outraged. "Zis woman eez hurt and will die wizzout medical attention! Have you no compassion?"

"Well, what can we do about that?" shrugged Russia.

"We cannot ask ze Doctor?" said France, pointing at the map on the floor.

China shook his head curtly. "The Doctor is not there. He left to help rescue Germany, who has been captured by the aliens, aru."

Stunned, France took a faltering step back. "Zat... zat eez terrible news," he murmured. "I had no idea."

"The Doctor... is gone?" whispered the injured woman weakly. "Where to?"

France rushed to her side and patted her cheek consolingly. "Do not worry, _mon cher_. You are in more zan capable hands." Then he rose to his feet and half-tackled the other two nations, pulling them into a huddle. "_Are_ we capable?" he asked them in a panic. "_Please tell me zat we are._"

"Well, I have some experience with human physiology," said Russia. "But not really the putting back together. More the taking apart of them, I believe. I suppose I could take a look..."

"Don't even try it," snapped China. "Everyone know that Eastern medicine is far superior. I will take charge of this, aru."

"I do not zhink zat _acupuncture_ will help with a wound like zat," France told China stiffly. "Besides, healthcare in Europe is ze best in ze world. If any one of us has experience with taking care of zheir human citizens it would be _moi_."

China bristled. "What are you trying to say? Chinese government takes care of all its citizens, aru!"

France snorted derisively. "As if _anyone_ would believe zat."

"I do not think that fighting right now would be good idea," said Russia. "Bear in mind I am in good position to snap your necks right now if I want."

"I... I was not fighting, aru!" China said defensively. Then he stopped and made a face. "Why am I still scared of your saber-rattling? Forget that! You could not kill me if you wanted to, and you don't want to anyway. I won't be intimidated by you anymore!"

"Except for the fact that I still have more nuclear missiles than you," Russia smirked. "Not something you might want to forget, _da?_"

"Oh, please!" huffed China. "You would never use those. Everyone know they are your only source of income."

"_I detect an unpleasant atmosphere from the tone of your conversation,_" they all heard Japan say from the map by their feet. "_Please, do not fight. What has been happening so far?_"

"France has found a _human_," said China, picking up the map. "A _live_ one."

"But not for long, I am thinking, because of all the blood coming out of her," added Russia.

There was a very long, shocked pause. "_I see,_" said Japan eventually. Then he added resolutely, "_If that is the case, then we must do our best to keep her alive as a gesture of courtesy. It would be disrespectful to let this human die._"

"You keep saying _human_," said the soldier. Her voice was weak but very suspicious. "As if you're not. Who _are_ you all?"

The three nations disentangled from their huddle and looked at one another.

"We tell her, aru?" asked China skeptically.

"I don't know," Russia shrugged. "No harm either way, I think." He looked instead to the third nation for an answer, and seeing that it seemed to be up to him, France decided to go for it.

So he took a step forward, faced the injured woman, and gave a flamboyant bow. "_Je m'appelle la République de la France_," he said proudly. "You may know me simply as France, of course."

"_Ia Rossiia_," said Russia, with a little wave.

"_Zhōng huá rén mín gòng hé guó_," the last nation finished, adding tersely, "China."

The soldier stared. "You're a pack of nutters, you are," she said finally.

China and Russia exchanged a baffled look.

"Having spent enough time around _l'Angleterre_, I believe I have heard all variations of such terms," said France. He addressed the woman again. "I assure you, we are entirely serious and sane." Then he paused and added, "... mostly. But we are nations, eet eez true."

"Am _I_ going mad?" the soldier asked matter-of-factly.

"If you are, zen eet eez a most creative madness," France had to point out.

"Time travelers with blue boxes and aliens and nations with human bodies," Private Lolito murmured. "Creative madness. I suppose I did sign up for it, after all." She saluted in a disoriented, hazy way. "Sir." Then her head drooped down again. It seemed to have taken all her energy to accept the idea.

"Does it matter if she believe us or not?" asked China. "Who cares? If we are going to fix her then we should just get on with it."

"Quite true," agreed Russia. He folded his arms thoughtfully. "Now, with a wound like that, I would normally suggest targeted economic aid..."

"Perhaps a few subsidies to stimulate business...?" suggested France.

"More police to patrol area for intrusion and maintain order," China said flatly. "Perhaps even military intervention, aru."

They heard Japan laughing from the speakers in the map. "_You three are so naive. She is a human, not a nation. She does not have an economy or an army or businesses. She has cells, and if they are damaged she cannot function properly._"

"Then what would you do?" China asked. "Do you know anything about humans?"

"_I do not know much. I am afraid I cannot be much help._"

France sidled up to the half-conscious young woman and gave her shoulder a small shake. "_Excusez-moi_, but... are you knowledgeable at all of... human medicine?"

"Oh, that's good," snorted China. "Ask the _patient_, aru."

Lolito shifted blearily. As far as she was concerned, this was an unlikely hallucination. She looked at her wounds again. There had been a shot to the stomach and the leg. It felt like much worse, though as it was, it was still pretty bad. "Bandages," she said thickly, gesturing at her abdomen. Then she pointed at a spot on her upper thigh. "Tourniquet. Tie something around the leg, tight. Cuts off circulation, less bleeding."

France looked back and forth frantically. "Bandages," he said blankly. "Cloth. We could... the uniforms... from ze other soldiers...?" He was at a loss. Medicine seemed to require a lot of external material and effort. "Some kind of..."

"No need," said Russia brightly. He reached up and carefully unwound the long white scarf he always wore from around his neck. "This will do nicely, _da?_"

"Your scarf, aru..." whispered China, in awe. He'd heard that Russia _killed_ a man just for touching it. Apparently France had heard the same thing, or something like it, because his expression mirrored China's almost exactly.

Oblivious to this, Russia knelt by the woman and proffered the length of cloth. "This is good?" he asked her. "For bandages?"

It had to be some kind of test, China decided. He and France tried to catch Lolito's attention, frantically shaking their heads. Russia was weird like that. He would be nice and then torture you for saying something wrong when you let your guard down. That was what they had heard from the Baltic Trio, anyway, who knew firsthand.

But Lolito _didn't_ know this, and so she just nodded and croaked, "Thank you."

"Not a problem, comrade," Russia reassured her. "We do what we can to help." He gave his scarf a slightly mournful last look and then proceeded to tear it into workable strips.

"I think I am probably having strange dream," China said, slowly shaking his head. Then he yelped. "Ack! France, keep your hands to yourself or I break your fingers!"

"I was simply reassuring you zat you are awake," France said, smirking. "Ohonhonhon..."

Enraged, China smacked him over the head and then chased him back into the rows of pods. "You creepy Western nations are all the same, aru!" he ranted. "So impolite, always trying to get at vital regions! Do not think I forget stupid spheres of influence that you kept trying to make when I was too weak to stop you, aru! You stay out of my nation! Aiyaa!"

"Do not pay any attention to them," Russia told Lolito as he carefully wrapped what had once been his scarf around her leg. "Nations can be so silly sometimes. Like children. That is why all must become one with Russia in the end."

"But you're all working together," said Lolito hoarsely, trying to pretend she hadn't heard that last bit. "More or less. And yet right now, every nation down on Earth is getting ready for World War Three... how did he _do_ it?"

"Who do you mean?" Russia asked, looking up from his ministrations.

"The Doctor, of course," said Lolito. "Well, I suppose that's your answer, isn't it? He can do it because he's the Doctor. That's what he _does_."

Then the map crackled as someone on the other side adjusted their speaker. "_I am sorry to interrupt, but I feel as though you have forgotten about me. May I please be introduced to this human?_"

"Oh, that's right," said Russia. "So sorry. I should have remembered." He passed Lolito the map. "Here. Maybe talking can help take your mind off the pain."

"I talk to the... what is this?" Lolito asked. "A map?"

"_Yes. It is both a map and a two-way communication system. Konnichiwa. My name is Japan. It is a pleasure to meet you._"

"Private Anda Lolito... likewise." She turned her head to one side thoughtfully. "So you're a nation too."

"_Yes. There are eight of us on the ship at the present time. You have already met France, China, and Russia..._"

Lolito nodded. "And with you that's four... who are the others? Is... is one of them _my_ nation?" She didn't look in so much pain for a moment as eagerness crept into her voice.

"_You would be from Britain, would you not? Yes, he is here, although he and America-san cannot be reached right now... and I believe Itary-san has lost his map. He is a bit careless, but no doubt he was simply worried for Germany. In any case, I can only reach this one map right now. I do hope Britain is all right... he has volunteered for a very dangerous task._"

Patriotic pride welled up in the soldier's eyes. "Did he now?" she asked Japan. "Good old UK. I suppose it's right silly of me to ask but... what does he... er... look like?"

Japan laughed. "_Not too silly, Anda-san. After all, if you are his citizen, in a way you are a part of him. It makes sense that you would want to know what he is like._"

"What who eez like?" It was France; having finally escaped China, he had decided to seek more sociable company.

"She was asking about Britain," said Russia, before realizing why he should have kept that information to himself. "Oh. There he goes."

An evil spark glinted in France's eyes, and he puffed himself up. "Well," he said with great satisfaction, "I happen to have known _l'Angleterre_ quite intimately for many centuries, and I can tell you zat I have never met a more disagreeable nation in all my existence." France began to toss insults into the air as if they were handfuls of seeds. "Not only eez he stubborn and entitled, but he has ze temperament of a choleric terrier and a similar odor as well. His cooking eez atrocious; he has the sense of humor of a statue; he suffers from frequent hallucinations and his tolerance for alcohol eez so low he could get drunk from apple juice if he believed eet was beer."

"_Anda-san, do not pay any attention to France. I am sure you are aware that he and Britain do not get along._"

"... he eez too short, and whatever physical beauty he might have had eez obscured by ze most monstrous eyebrows crawling across his forehead, and in general he eez so unpleasantly proper I could probably count ze number of lovers he has had on ze fingers of a horse, zhough zis eez partly ze fault of his regrettable attraction to zat oblivious fool America..."

"_Just... do not respond_," Japan sighed. "_I think it encourages him_."

France stopped his tirade and squatted in front of Private Lolito. "And he tries to hide eet," he told her, a strange spark of gentleness floating in his eyes, "but he has a very large and sensitive heart. _Mon cher_, I have met many countries, and I can tell you zat of all of zem, Britain eez one of ze best I know." He regarded her curiously. "Does zat answer your question?"

"I should like to meet him," said the soldier, with the ghost of a smile. "He sounds just like himself."

"_Shall I tell Igirisu what you said about him?_" Japan asked France teasingly. "_It was quite touching._"

Sensing blackmail, France tossed his head. "Perhaps I shall tell him myself. Unlike him, I do not flee from open displays of affection."

"You do when you try them on _me_, aru," China said, coming to stand over them with his hands on his hips. "So, what now? Do you think she will live or die?"

"Live for now," said Russia, tying the last strip of scarf around the soldier's waist and standing up. "Much longer..." He shrugged. "Probably not."

"I appreciate the honesty," said Lolito, inspecting the bandages. "But... it feels better. A lot more than I would expect. When I crawled into that pod I was dying and all this time later I'm no worse... it's so strange."

"_Why don't you tell what happened to you from the beginning?_" Japan suggested. "_Perhaps it can offer some vital clues. You see, we are trying to piece together what the questions are even as we try to answer them_."

Lolito nodded. "I'll do my best to..." Her words faded out roughly, and she had to clear her throat a few times. When she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, it left a smear of blood on the skin. It was noticeable, however, that her voice was growing stronger instead of weaker the longer she spoke.

"I haven't been working with UNIT for very long, you understand," she began. "I took the job because it was either that or have my memory wiped and I didn't want to forget what I'd seen... that we weren't alone in the universe..." She looked down at herself ruefully. "Witness the shirt," she said. "Put it on inside out when I got dressed this morning, that's how much of a greenie I am. Never going to be much more than a private, me, oh no."

Then Lolito looked at the nations one by one. "You're probably thinking this is all irrelevant but it's not, really. It's why I survived. They taught me to fight, but that doesn't make me a soldier. I can fight to protect myself, or to protect other people, but not... not just because someone ordered me to. I'm still always fighting... alone."

She composed herself and shifted up into a more comfortable position, her tone becoming more businesslike. "This morning the Doctor visited the UNIT headquarters in London... we hadn't realized until then that what had been going on was extraterrestrial in origin. And he didn't go to the generals or the other really high-up NCOs, because they were all too political, he said. He just fetched as many of us as would come and told us that we had to use this experimental teleportation device I hadn't been told about since it was classified. It was from Torchwood, apparently... and you don't know about Torchwood at all, do you? Well, they collect alien technology and..."

Lolito stopped, sighed, and covered her eyes. "Oh, there I go spilling national secrets... I must remember to expect the court martial."

"Right now is no time for nation to keep secret from each other," said China sternly. "It is hard for me to admit but... our bonds as fellow humans are stronger than the walls between us we make on map."

"Anyway," added Russia, "there is not much that is secret which I do not already know about." He spread his hands out with cheerful ambivalence. "I know everything eventually."

"I see," said Lolito warily. "Where was I? The transport. It was a bit of a rough ride but we all ended up here. There weren't many of the aliens on the ship, and they didn't even try to fight... in fact, they abandoned it almost instantly."

"Sounds suspicious, aru," China commented.

Lolito kept unconsciously moving her hand back to the wounded spot, as if it itched. She would rub a finger along the cloth and press down occasionally, testing the flesh for pain. "We thought so, too. Thing was, when these ships are cloaked they can't communicate with one another. That's one of their weaknesses..."

"Good," muttered China. "At least they _have_ weaknesses."

"It seemed to me that the Doctor found something on the ship he thought he could use," Lolito explained. "Something in his eyes... he told me to pull up genome archives from all the nations of the world and then he ran off to... to this place, I think. Nothing much happened for a while and then..."

She seemed to notice what she was doing with her wound, and puzzled over it. "How strange," the soldier murmured.

"What is strange, aru?" asked China, not missing anything.

"It feels... the wound doesn't hurt as much now... and it should be getting worse..." Lolito looked bleak. "Is that what happens before someone dies?"

"If it is, then you had better hurry with your story," China answered bluntly.

"What kind of zhing eez zat to say?" France cried, horrified. "Have some respect!"

"No, he's right," Lolito whispered, waving France off. "I have to tell you everything... The ship was boarded again by the aliens. I and a few other soldiers ran down to this very room, because the Doctor had said he would be here, but we couldn't find him, and then the aliens showed up." She tried to speak faster, but in her fatigue it just slurred her words and she was forced to enunciate more clearly. "I knew we couldn't let the aliens in here... whatever the Doctor's plan was, it was our only hope. We were dying, one after another, running out of bullets from firing at shadows..."

"You were shot?" said Russia, gesturing to the bandages.

"Yes, twice," nodded Lolito, wincing. "And then there weren't any more aliens... I think I lost consciousness, but when I came to, I was in a pile of bodies, and it looked like I was going to be one of them next. Then I heard voices... they were coming to see if there were any survivors."

"We heard zat as well," France told her. "After we first arrived..."

"They were looking for survivors... that meant me," Lolito said, somewhat unnecessarily. "I knew I had to hide, so I managed to get to my feet and into one of the birthing pods, and everything was a bit hazy after that until-"

France held up a hand. "One moment. _What _did you hide in, again?"

"Birthing pod..." She looked confused. "_You_ know what they are; you _found_ me in one."

France rocked back too far on his heels and sat down with a thump.

"Like I said," Lolito went on, still befuddled, "It was all a bit hazy until you showed up. And your voice didn't sound like the aliens' did... I had to know who was there. Maybe they would help..."

"Zese objects..." stuttered France, gesturing around him at the glass cylinders all around the room. "Zey are not transporters?"

Lolito shook her head slowly. "Nooo... what I heard them called was... birthing pods. This is the birthing bay. I don't know what it means but it doesn't sound like... _transport_ to me."

"_Birthing pods,_" said Japan uncertainly, from the map. "_I am sorry... what?_"

"That's what I heard," Lolito told him, reaching for the sheet.

The map fizzled as she picked it up. "_Are you sure?_" Japan asked. "_Are you absolutely positive that's what..._"

"Absolutely sure. I... I don't understand. Were you told something else?"

"Yes!" China burst out. "We were told that they were transporters, aru!"

"Birthing pods..." mused Russia. "It sounds pleasantly ominous."

France's eyes screwed up. "_Pleasant?_ How is _ominous_ pleasant?"

"What more could he have lied about?" China was ranting. "All this time he said we were setting up transporters and we could have been... we could have been growing new aliens, aru!"

"_These computers have access to all this ship's information_," Japan informed them. "_If one only knows where to look for it, and how to interpret it._"

"Zen by all means," said France, "find out what zis eez. Eet appears you are ze only one we can trust for now."

"_Thank you_," Japan said, his voice fading out again."_I will do my best._"

"I can't believe the Doctor would lie about something like that for no reason," Lolito insisted. "I don't _believe_ those people who say that he's not on our side. Every time he shows up, it's because he's trying to stop something terrible from happening."

"In other words," said China shrewdly, "something terrible happens every time he shows up, aru?"

"It's not like that at all!" Lolito protested. "He's a time traveler! He goes where he's needed..." And then her voice faltered. It wasn't out of weakness; something else had stolen her attention. "Did you feel that?" she croaked.

"I don't know if I did..." said Russia cautiously. "I _might_ have..."

"It felt like a tremor... a tremor in the floor," said Lolito. She didn't believe in coincidences. "There! That was-"

It came with sound now; a far-off rumble like that of thunder. The floor trembled and it felt like the floor had lurched to one side and then steadied itself.

"That was it, aru," China agreed, getting to his feet. "Shockwave? What is going on? Are we-"

"-being attacked?" finished France without any pause. He covered his eyes in despair. "And she was _just_ saying zat zey would not... oh, ze timing eez simply perfect..."


	19. The Truth

**AN: It's back! After a whole frigging MONTH of waiting, I've finally gotten out the next chapter! Wow! I hope I've still got readers left! I'm seriously very sorry, you guys. But now, it's summer. I have tons of free time, with no homework to weigh me down. So this is a promise: the next chapter will not NEARLY take so long as this one!**

**Oh, yeah, and lots of stuff happens in this one! It's long and I worked hard on it. Please review... pretty please...**

"If we're being attacked, what can we do about it?" cried China. "Aiyaa! Why _now?_ What else could have gone wrong, aru?" He jumped back as a jet of sparks flew out of a wire on the ceiling, accompanied by another jolt and echoing crash.

"Japan!" yelled France, diving for the map and the only hope he had. "Are you zhere? You are supposed to be on some kind of... tower-surveillance-zhing, _non?_"

"_I know, I know!_" Japan responded frantically. "_I cannot see anything from here, but I did feel those tremors, and I agree they were impacts from some kind of weapon..._"

For too long, the three nations and the one human were frozen in place, listening to the crunches and wobbling on their feet as the gravity skewed. Seconds, and then minutes passed.

"What do we do...?" whispered China.

Russia seemed to wake up from the frightened silence. "Everyone against wall," he said firmly, taking hold of France and China by the elbow and pushing them in the required direction. France let himself be manhandled without a fuss, but China resisted.

"Hey!" he yelped. "What are you doing?"

"Ah. Well. In days of Cold War, we were always expecting American bombs to come out of nowhere and kill us all," explained Russia, with his usual lack of perturbation when discussing violence and death. "Best way to not die is to be crouched down at the base of a sturdy wall. Like so, _da?_" He pulled his knees in and covered his head with his hands.

France hurriedly copied him. "So zis will keep us alive if zhere eez an explosion?"

"It should increase our chances of survival to about..." Russia pondered quietly for a moment. "One in twenty." He smiled. "Not bad?"

"I think that is very bad," grumped China. "Not to mention what our chances of surviving in a vacuum are." Except he was mimicking Russia as well. They all were; four people of varying color, size, and race, huddled up against the bulkhead with their hands covering their heads.

Presently Russia remarked, "This really brings me back to those times when I was powerful... I remember doing this during Cuban Missile Crisis. It really puts things in perspective when you contemplate the possibility of being atomized any second."

"Shut up, aru..." China muttered, a hint of hysteria in his voice.

Russia didn't hear, or he heard and just didn't care. "It is very hard to be afraid of little things like embarrassing yourself or getting liver cancer when you could go boom right then and there. I would drink whole buckets of vodka because I knew that if I was murdered in a gruesome way I would not have a hangover because I would be dead. And if I did have a hangover, then it would feel good, because it meant that I was still alive."

"Is he always like this?" Lolito whispered.

"Zis?" France replied. "Ohonhon. No, zis eez much better zan usual."

"Hey, I have an idea," said Russia happily. "Why don't we try to get into the mood of the thing? I go first." He covered his eyes and pretended to be scared. "Oh, no, I am going to die. America is going to blow up my country with his atom bomb. Okay, now it's your turn."

China blanched. "Aiyaa! Enough of that, aru!"

"Heehee... China, you are so cute, _da?_"

"Agh! Don't touch me, aru!"

Lolito patted the floor, then pressed a hand against the wall. "I think... Listen, all of you, I think it's over," she said loudly. "I can't feel anything anymore."

One by one they realized this and carefully stood up, even the private, who managed to push herself up with a grimace. It had been a terrifying ten minutes for all of them, though they had odd ways of showing it.

"So that happened..." Lolito said, tottering forward with a hand still braced against the wall for support. "That happened, and then it stopped, and we still don't know what it was..." Then her foot hit the floor at a bad angle and gave way, and she would have fallen if France hadn't got an arm around her waist in time.

"'ey... 'ey, you be careful," he told her in a stern but gentle tone. "What do you zhink you are doing, hm? Get back over zhere and sit down, _chère_, you are hurt."

"Actually, I feel much better," Lolito insisted.

"No. France is right," said China firmly. "You should not be walking around. It will waste too much energy."

"I'm a soldier," the woman muttered through gritted teeth. "I can handle it."

"Not half an hour ago you were dying on the floor," China pointed out indignantly. "I can't see how you could have gotten so much better in that time." Lolito frowned. "Well, either I _am_ dying, in which case I'd rather stand since it won't matter either way, or I'm actually feeling _better_, in which case-"

"In which case you should not endanger that hope of surviving, aru! Go sit back down!"

Surprised, Lolito began to do as ordered. The idea that great and powerful nations such as these would be taking such concern in her welfare was a little flattering. But she really did feel better than before, which, as China had just pointed out, made very little sense.

As she thought this, as she was leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit, the map, discarded on the floor, started to hiss.

She stopped, and then scooped up the map, ignoring the twinge of pain. "Wait!" she said quickly. "Listen! I think it's Japan, but he's not saying anything..."

"Does he have information about what happened?" asked China, rushing over.

"Has he been able to reach ze ozzer nations?" France said anxiously. "Are zey all right?"

Then Japan's voice came on through the speakers on the map He sounded so distant, so detached, and yet so very... angry. "_Listen, all of you. Anyone who can hear me, you _must_ pay attention. There is something that you need to know._"

"We are here!" China told the map, frightened. "What happened, aru? What is it?"

"_We have all been lied to,_" Japan said, his voice breaking strangely with suppressed emotion. "_There are no such things as transport pods._"

"Then... then how did we get to this stupid place?" China interrupted, shaking the paper. "What do you mean? Why is that so-"

Russia's hand fell on China's shoulder. "Calm down. Let Japan talk."

"_We never came here!_" Japan blurted out. "_Nothing brought us to the ship! The pods are used for growing new aliens from DNA!_"

The nations looked at each other. "Zey are... for ze growing of zhings?" said France blankly. He snorted in disbelief. "But zat's silly! What would we be _doing_ in zese growy birzhing pods for all zat time until we woke up?"

"_What do you _think?" Japan cried in anguish. "_We were growing!_"

All the nations stood stock still, thunderstruck. Their world, and everything in it, had turned to glass and shattered all around them.

"_I found record of the activity of these birthing pods and it says that about a day ago there were eight pods activated_," Japan went on, his breathing coming heavily. "_And eight hours after that the process of maturation was terminated. That would explain why we don't have up-to-date memories!_"

Private Anda Lolito closed her eyes in horror. She wasn't surprised, even though she had never guessed it was true. It just made perfect, terrible sense.

"_The Doctor must have been the one to do it. There seems to be some way that memories can be implanted when a creature is growing inside the pods. That time machine has a powerful computer. I think it could have been able to process events from world history into a coherent story..._"

Then China shouted, "_No!_" He tore himself away from Russia's attempts to calm him and started to back up, shaking his head viciously. "No! No, no, no! You're lying! You're lying!" He clamped his hands over his ears. "I don't have to listen to stupid lies! I am thousand of year old, aru!"

"_You were first created twenty-four hours ago,_" said Japan through the map, almost dreamily. "_You are the same age as me._"

"I am great nation!" China yelled back, his face turning red. "I am China! I am... Are you trying to say that none of us exist? But that soldier woman is from Britain, aru! How can _he_ not be real if she-?"

"Britain the _nation_ is real!" Lolito said fiercely. "Not Britain the _person!_"

"Zat doesn't even make any sense!" France insisted. "Zey're ze same zhing, _non?_"

Lolito struggled to her feet and hobbled towards them, breathing hard. "No. No, they're not. Nations... aren't people."

"I call that discrimination," said China angrily. "Some people just have no respect!"

"Well, they're not! They're just landmasses with populations and governments! They don't walk, and they don't talk, and they don't... _flirt!_ They're really just... abstract ideas." Lolito covered her eyes. "God knows I haven't a clue what you are, if you're not nations, but you certainly aren't human. You've all got memories worth hundreds of years and you don't think like we do..."

"I don't believe it!" China screamed. "I am Chung-kuo! I am four thousand year old! I remember everything! I remember great sage-kings and Xia dynasty... I remember the first time I nearly drowned in Yellow River... the time when I hurt my back building my Great Wall... to keep _you _out!" he yelled, pointing at Russia. "But you kept coming back! You could never leave me alone, aru!"

"_Kitai..._" Russia said quietly. "_Kitai, pozhaluista... _China, please..."

"... and I... remember... aru... " China clutched at his hair. "I remember waking up every morning and going to bed every night, aru... Every time I got sick because of Black Plague! Every time bosses change because of Mandate of Heaven! Every time I met someone new on Silk Road! You can't just make that all up, aru!"

"He didn't," said Lolito simply. "It all did happen. It's _history_."

China balled his fists. "It's my _life!_"

"I... I don't know what to say..." murmured France. He slumped against a wall and sifted his fingers through his golden hair. "If I was born... when I woke up in zat pod... _Sacrebleu! _Does zat mean I am still a virgin?"

"_Really, France!_" Japan scolded. "_There are more important things to worry about right now!_"

China was now shaking Russia by the shoulders, all regard for decency forgotten. "You remember everything, don't you?" he begged. "All... all those times you stalked me in that panda outfit...?"

_I don't want to know_, thought Lolito.

Russia smiled faintly. "Oh, right. I remember that."

"All those times you stuck up for me when everyone else pretended that stupid Taiwan was the real China, aru? You remember that too?"

"_Da_," said Russia carefully, nodding. "I remember that too."

"It must have happened, then!" China's brown eyes were wide and pleading. "It must have!"

Slowly Russia shook his head. "I do not think so."

"_Aiyaa!_ _You!_" China slammed his fists against the man's chest. "What good are you, aru? Why can't you just-" But he was cut off as Russia got hold of his armpits and literally hoisted him into the air. "_Put me down, aru!_" China screamed, struggling.

"I think Japan may be telling the truth," Russia said. "It _feels_ true. China, sometimes you have to just face the truth and live with it..."

"_How can I live with that?_" China shrieked. "Wh-what life do I _h-have?_" And to his shame and horror, he started to cry

It was the kind of cry where your nose fills with mucous and your throat shrinks to the size of a pinhole and your jaw aches with every sob, and thick blobby tears leave salty residue all over your cheeks. It was the way a child weeps when he has hoped with all his heart for something only for it to be snatched from his hands. And for the moment, he feels that what he has lost is the only thing he will ever want in the world.

He cried because he knew, somewhere deep inside, that it was all true. As if he'd been born knowing, all along. And he cried because he had nothing left to hold the tears in. No dignity, no history, no culture, no identity. He was a day old.

Russia carefully set China down and then wrapped his arms around him, rubbing the smaller man's back in what he hoped was a comforting way. It was probably worse for someone as old and as proud as China, Russia thought. He himself felt a sense of sorrow, but there was also a bit of guilty relief. For him, the past was something that carried too much pain. Nothing ever had really worked out for his nation. And without all that weighing on him, he felt strangely free. He had only just begun; the future was his. He could do anything.

Except for one thing. He couldn't stop being a nation. It was just who he was... he was going to have to find some way of working around this whole reality-is-not-fantasy thing. But, he was pretty good at that.

It wasn't long before France nosed his way into the embrace. "Group hug," he said mushily. "I need ze comfort." He grabbed onto Lolito's sleeve and tugged her over.

"Who, _me?_" she protested. "Bloody hell! _I'm_ not going to be a part of this group hug solidarity thing! I'm not even a..."

"Too late," said France, sneaking an arm around her waist. "By ze way, zere's zis situation I have zat you could possibly help with..."

"I... what...? _No!_ Find someone else!"

"Where's the map?" asked Russia. "Oh, here we are. Japan, are you there?"

"_Hai. I am here._"

"We are all having a group hug thing," Russia told him. "For comfort. Would you like to come down and join us?"

"_I do not participate in group hugging,_" said Japan hastily. "_Thank you, no._"

"You ought to come down anyway," China told him, pulling out of the hug. He wiped his face and assumed a businesslike expression. "We have to regroup and tell the others the truth, aru."

"_I agree. And we have to devise a new plan. I do not trust the Doctor's intentions. If he kept this from us, he may have been intending to use us, the same as the aliens. They may even be working together._"

Lolito started back. "No! That's not it at all! He's not... whatever he's done, he's the only hope Earth has! Believe me, if someone doesn't change a lot of minds fast, people are going to start killing each other! On a scale of millions!"

"You are wrong," said Russia. "He is not the only hope. _We _are."

"_That's right,_" Japan agreed. "_We may have been born on this alien ship but we were made from human DNA. We are the men from Earth._"

"And woman," Lolito pointed out. "Which would be, er, me. I do count, don't I?"

France appraised her and then nodded. "You were part of ze group hug," he told her ceremoniously. "You are one of us."

The map crackled. "_Well, if that is all then I-_" And then Japan's voice cut off with a harsh gasp.

"What was that?" asked China sharply. "Japan! Little brother! Are you all right?"

"_Something has happened to the-_"

China shook the map. "To the what? What happened?"

"_I have to get out! I am sorry, but we will longer able to use the-_"

The connection went dead.

"Japan!" China shouted. "_Japan!_"

* * *

><p>In the spire, Japan backed away from the computer screen and the smooth, sparkling ball that was the psychic interface. A few seconds earlier, he had caught a glimpse of something odd out of the corner of his eye, turned around, and found the words <em>self-lethalization<em> in large glowing letters.

And then he realized how warm the room had become. He hadn't noticed...

The ball shot sparks, and then, with a loud crack, it sent out its first arc of electricity. Two more followed in rapid succession, striking the walls of the tower.

It was going to self-destruct, Japan realized in horror. They had hacked the interface and made it unstable, and now it was going to destroy the whole tower...

He lunged for the hatch on the floor that led to the stairs and pulled on the handle. More lightning exploded from the interface, and the door refused to yield. If he didn't get out now, he was going to be, well, destructed along with the rest of it.

Japan planted both feet and strained with all his might, and the hatch flew open, striking him in the mouth. It must have cut his lip, because he tasted blood. Without a second to spare, Japan swung his legs through the gap and then let himself fall.

A few gut-wrenching seconds of descent later, his boots hit the floor, sending an unpleasant shockwave up his legs. All around him, the structure was rumbling. He stared down the long flight of spiral stairs for a moment.

Even in such a dire scenario as this, Japan always had to stop and evaluate the situation. What would be the fastest way down? Running wouldn't do... but hadn't the Doctor said something about... sliding on the banister...? Oh, dear. Well, if he was going to do something like _that_, he could at least do it in style. Japan dug his fingers into a cracked panel on the wall and, with a strength he didn't know he possessed, ripped a sheet of metal from its frame. Gripping the sides and holding it out in front of him, he took a breath, then three running steps and a leap.

The bottom of the smooth metal sled hit the railing on the far wall and suddenly he was moving _fast_. Japan pulled in his legs and planted his feet firmly on the metal on either side of the railing and leaned into the motion. Centripetal force kept him from falling as he tilted further and further...

He skated almost all the way down in a blur of white and black and gold. Near the bottom fear and concentration were overridden by adrenaline. _I feel just like some kind of super anime hero!_ he exulted (quietly, in his head). _Or a ninja! Yes! I am a ninja-_

Until he neared the end and found that his sense of balance had abandoned him, and he tumbled head over heels onto the floor as the metal sled flew out from under his feet. A bit dazed, he sat up and rubbed his skull.

"It is good to try new things," he said to himself, "So that you know what you should never do again." But it had certainly gotten him down fast enough. He jumped to his feet and ran for his life.

Behind him, the internal support structures in the spire began to creak and squeal. _If the tower explodes, then there will still be a vacuum!_ he realized. He had to seal it off! Japan ran through a large doorway and ran his hands over the wall next to the opening. There was a panel... yes! If he could shut these doors...

His fingers flashed over the keys, and then he heard a _WHROOOM!_ like the booming of a thunderclap right overhead. A great force yanked him away from the controls, but he clung to the edge for dear life, arms straining. His eyes streamed from the sudden gust of wind, and he forced them shut. He heard the groaning of the great sliding double doors moving, but it was too late... he lost his grip and flew sideways, but then his back hit something hard, there was a final _shunk_, and the wind stopped.

The doors had closed just in time.

Japan breathed in heavily. So, the spire had been destroyed. The critical part of the Doctor's plan, unless he really was working for the aliens. In either case, he had just narrowly escaped an assassination attempt.

Smoothing out his jacket, he faced the hall and started to run. It was a good thing he had the route back memorized, because otherwise he would have been lost.

* * *

><p>"We're almost there!" said the Doctor cheerfully. "Keep moving, you two!"<p>

Germany and Italy were staggering along behind him. The former still hadn't quite recovered from being the fly on a spiderweb, and the latter was trying to hold up the former, without much success.

"Vhat on Earth vere zhose explosions ve heard?" Germany groaned. "Are ve being attacked by anozzer ship? Surely zey vould not risk killing zheir leader!"

"Maybe they don't like him either!" suggested Italy, pushing the other nation upright again with a grunt. "He wasn't a very nice guy, was he?"

"_Nein_, he vas not," Germany agreed. "Und if I ever see him again, I vill strangle him viz his own colon."

"And then _I_ get to put him into one of those choppy spinny things and make a Bolognese out of him," Italy said, his eyes narrowing almost to the slits they always used to be. "I'm-a gonna have-a fun with that."

Germany stiffened. "Stop talking like zat, Italy. It is not like you to be so violent."

The Mediterranean nation blinked slowly, and looked bemused. "Veh... I'm sorry. It just always makes me feel so good whenever _you_ would say things like that about people who hurt _me_."

"Vell it shouldn't. It should freak you out! _Ach_, vhat am I supposed to do viz you?" Germany covered his eyes. Trust Italy to start copying his bad habits.

"It's too bad about the map," Italy commented. "I think I dropped it when we fell onto the web thing. But I bet the Doctor knows what he's doing."

Just then the Doctor himself came running back, looking harried. "So which way did we turn at the stairwell? Left or right?" Then he saw their faces, especially Germany's. "All right, all right! I'm only joking, don't get your knickers in a twist. I mean it, don't let that happen. It sounds _immensely_ uncomfortable."

* * *

><p>China slammed his fist into the wall. "Damnit, aru! What's taking him so long?"<p>

"You should stop doing that," Russia told him, tapping his shoulder. "You are going to break your knuckles."

"Oh, why do you care? Fine! If wall is to hard, can I punch you instead?"

"If you want to, go ahead. Then, when _I_ am angry and pissy, I will use _you_ as punching bag, _da?_"

"Stop zat, you two!" France ordered. "We were getting along so well!"

"China is being mean again," Russia complained, pointing at the Asian nation. "Why does he have to be so crabby all the time?"

"I'm not being mean!"

France put his hands on his hips. "Obviously, China eez worried about Japan's safety. We ought to be more considerate of his feelings."

"I don't have any feelings," China said stubbornly.

He effectively invalidated this claim seconds later. There came the sound of footsteps, and China's head shot up, eyes searching the darkness for a sign of movement.

"Who's zhere?" France called warily.

The footfalls came faster and then a shape came hurtling out of the darkness, yelling, "Big brother France! Big brother France! Veh! Veh! I'm-a so glad to see you!"

"Italy! Oh, come here, you cute zhing!" France scooped the jubilant Italy up in his arms and squeezed him tight. "I zhought you were gone for good!"

"No, no, I'm okay, and so is Germany! See! I'm all in one piece! No missing parts or anything! You won't believe what happened to us-" Then Italy stopped and studied France's expression. "What's wrong, big brother France?" he asked suddenly. "You look unhappy."

France slowly put Italy down, and looked over the confused nation's shoulder at the two figures that had resolved out of the shadows. "It's... it's nozzing..."

"No!" said China sharply. "What are you doing? You have to tell him, aru!"

"Veh? Tell me what?" Italy asked innocently.

France looked down at Italy, into those wide, childlike chocolate eyes. "I... I can't do it..." he whispered.

"Tell him vhat?" Germany demanded, storming over. If it meant Italy was in danger... "Tell Italy _vhat?_"

"The truth," said a voice.

It was Japan.

"You're all right, aru!" China exclaimed. "What _happened?_"

"The computer had a self-destruct virus in it. The tower exploded. I was able to escape in time, but the psychic link is gone." The nation stepped out of the shadows. His black hair was windswept and disheveled, and he had a slightly swollen lower lip. There was a bruise on his temple and a few small tears in his uniform. Otherwise, he was as immaculate as ever.

"Gone?" asked China, momentarily derailed. "But does that mean we have stopped them?"

The Doctor stepped forward and shook his head. "No, no... the other ships still have connections. But without the one we have, we won't..."

"Stop!" said Japan angrily, holding out a hand. "Do not come any closer!"

The Doctor stopped.

"This man... no, this _alien_ has lied to all of us!" Japan went on, pointing at the Doctor. "Nothing we have been told about how we came to be here was true!"

Strangely calm, the Doctor clasped his hands behind his back. "And you want to tell them the truth?" he said.

"They deserve to know!" Lolito burst out. Then she swallowed. Suddenly, every pair of eyes was on her.

"Who on Earth is she?" Germany asked. "Vhere did she come from?"

Something about this new nation told Lolito to salute, so she did. "Private Anda Lolito, sir! Special operations squadron, United Nations Intelligence Taskforce, sir! Last surviving member of my crew, sir!"

Germany listened with approval. "For vonce," he muttered, "someone who knows how to behave zemselves."

"You were... I _know_ you," said the Doctor, surprised. "You had your shirt on backwards..."

"Also wounded in action, _sir_," added France, rolling his eyes and rounding on Lolito, "so stop standing up when I keep telling you to sit down, _s'il vous plaît!_ Have we got zat?"

"_Ciao,_ _bella!_" said Italy happily, waving and ignoring Germany's sudden furious aura. "Veh, I think you look so very nice in that uniform!"

"Oh, no," said France sternly. "No one eez allowed to flirt wiz my patient! Except for me," he added.

"Not you either!" Lolito protested. "Especially not you! You're bloody French!"

"_Excusez-moi_. I am ze _embodiment_ of everyzhing zat eez French," France said, gesturing to himself smoothly. "Good, _non?_"

Japan raced over to Germany's side. "Yell at them," he said hurriedly. "Tell them all to shut up, please. You are good at that. Now, quickly!"

Germany didn't need to be asked again. "_EVERYVONE SHUT UP!_" he roared.

It got quiet fast.

"So, Japan..." Germany said. "Vhat did you vant to say?"

"I..." Anguish flashed over the small man's expression. He looked at the Doctor, at the nations, opened his mouth.

And then it all spilled out. The birthing pods, the computer logs, the genome archives... the truth about what they were. "We call ourselves nations," he finished, "but none of us have ever even stood on Earth's soil in all our lives."

After a moment of silence, Italy started to cry. He snuffled and sobbed and buried his face in Germany's chest. The other nation just stood and let him, stunned.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Japan eventually said to the Doctor.

"I didn't mean for you not to know," the Doctor answered honestly. "It was supposed to be programmed in."

At the word _programmed_, Italy wailed harder.

"It was a mistake..." The Doctor pushed his hair back and sighed. "The Proeliites raided the ship before you had time to finish growing. And I'm sorry I did this to you, but I hadn't any better ideas! Would you have preferred it if I stood back and let everyone on Earth die?"

"You could have told us," Italy whispered, finally detaching himself from Germany and turning around. "Veh... Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because you weren't ready yet. You came out too early, and your brains were all underdeveloped. Can't you remember how you all acted? Like children! But the maturation process hasn't stopped. You're going to be so much more than what you are now, Italy. You're going to be so strong and powerful, I promise."

"I told myself that once," said Italy doubtfully. "I was lying."

"What's going on?" asked France, out of nowhere. His voice faded a little. "What eez eet?"

Germany gave him a strange look and then retuned his attention to the Doctor. "You had no right to keep such information from us," he said. Now that his shock had passed, he was literally quivering with rage. "It is not your place to decide vhat ve should and should not know."

"Wait," said China. "Where did France just go, aru?"

"He may have had a good reason, Germany," Italy said softly. "I think he's right."

"_Nein!_ _Nein! _Italy, vhy must you defend zis nonhuman!"

Italy jumped back. "Why do _you_ have-a to call him that? Like it's a bad-a thing? And the Doctor may have lied to us, but sometimes you have to make tough decisions in bad situations! Anyway, I wouldn't even exist if it wasn't for him! I owe him that!"

"France?" Russia inquired. "Who is that with you...? What is going on?"

"He created you as an experiment!" Germany told Italy furiously. "And now he has you under his control! Stop zis nonsense right now!"

"I'm not being controlled by anyone!" Italy yelled. "Not him, and not you either! Don't tell me what to do!"

"_Italien..._ don't be stupid..."

"Exactly! Stupid! That's all you think I am!" Italy started to cry again. "You still think I'm so _useless_, don't you? Even after I drew all the maps, even after I saved your life! No! Don't even say anything! I don't want to hear it!"

"I didn't..."

"_Oh, shut up, you damn potato bastard!_"

Germany froze, and his stomach turned over painfully.

Even Italy looked a little shocked by the words that had just come tearing out of his throat. His lower lip quivered, and he reached out a shaking hand. "G-germany... I... I d-didn't mean t-to... I'm s-sorry..."

Germany didn't respond, didn't acknowledge this in any way. His eyes seemed so dull and lifeless.

Japan watched them with pity, and then realized, all of a sudden, that they were the only ones left in the vicinity. Even the Doctor had vanished. "Something is wrong," said Japan softly. "Something is very wrong." He started to run, dodging around the two motionless nations and heading for the door. "Russia-san! China-san! France-san! What is it? What has happened?"

The first thing he saw was France's expression. His face was utterly ashen, and his eyes were wide and slowly leaking tears down his cheeks.

"No..." gasped Japan. "No!" He pushed France aside and battled past the others. "It can't be...!"

The figure on the ground looked up. If France's visage was one of despair, then this one was pure and utter agony. It was so twisted with heartache and pain that the identity of the man was almost unrecognizable.

Almost.

"America...?" Japan whispered.

**AN: Review to stop the Proeliites from ending the world!**


	20. Acts of Valor

**AN: There are two big announcements I'd like to make. Firstly, I made a cover for this story! With a Hetalian 10th Doctor! You may see that the image for this story has changed - that's it right there. You can see it much bigger on deviantART here: **

** xanrussell . deviantart art/The-Men-From-Earth-Poster-309147301 (remove spaces)**

**And secondly, it's a big day, because I have now reached 100 reviews on this story, so I'd like to thank you readers for being absolutely wonderful. This is my very first 100, so it's kind of special to me. Thanks and love to all of you, and if you haven't reviewed yet and have been following along with the adventure, I'd love to hear from you. Anyway, yeah. This makes me feel good. So, in return for you all for your faithfulness, I wrote... **_**THIS**_**.**

**I'm a terrible person. **

**You'll understand why I said that.**

_Hours earlier..._

"And... here we are, heroes!" America announced, slinging an arm around Britain's shoulder companionably. "This is it!"

"That's a rather large wall," said Britain unenthusiastically. "_Again._"

"Nope! This one's a door! All we have to do is get it open and the hangar bay is going to be right behind it!" America rapped a fist on the metal, which rang hollowly, so there really _was_ something behind it. Well, go figure. He knocked again. "Open up, yo!"

"As if _that's_ going to work," scoffed Britain. "Let's see what the Doctor has to say..." He reached into his jacket pocket and opened the transparent map.

America leaned his forearm on the door made a face. "Aw, jeez, man! All you ever do is ask that guy questions!"

"That's bizarre..." Britain studied the map. "Look at this. All the markers for the aliens have stopped moving." He inspected closer. "And now they're disappearing... what are they _doing?_ Doctor, are you there? Doctor?"

"What's the matter?"

"He's not responding! I think we've lost the signal, and now the map isn't working! All I can hear is static, listen..." Britain held the map up to America's ear.

The only noise that came from the device was a grainy hissing, like muted TV snow. "Wow. That's majorly creepy," said America. "Now, about this door..."

"But... you do realize what this means, don't you? We can't do any of this without his help! We don't know how to-"

America laughed and patted his head. "Always the worrywart," he said affectionately. "Have a little faith, Britain! I'm sure you'll figure it all out, cuz you're good at that! You're so smart!"

Britain's cheeks tinged pink, and he swatted America's hand away. "It's not _me _I'm worried about... blithering idiot..." Nonetheless, he was slightly mollified. "How do we get through this damn door, then?"

"Well, in keeping with American tradition, I was thinking of maybe using brute strength. Sound good? Okay, you get one side and I'll get the other." He jammed his fingers into the crack of the tall bay doors. "Ready? One, two, three, _umpf!_"

Both nations planted their feet and pulled. After a few seconds, the right half of the door squeaked, groaned, and then flew open. America followed through the motion, then stood back and admired his handiwork, rolling his shoulders back and flexing his arms in front of him. "All right!" he cheered. "It worked! Score one for the hero!"

On his side, Britain grunted and tugged harder, straining backwards. A moment later the sliding door inched backwards a little ways, and right after that, Britain let go with a gasp. "My _back!_" he moaned. "For god's sake... ow, ow, bloody _ow_..."

"You okay?" asked America innocently. "You need a massage or something?"

In return, he received a glare. "Go boil your arse."

"Taking that as a no, then... Whoa, check it out!" America whooped and shot off through the half-opened doors. "This is _sweet!_"

Britain gritted his teeth and hobbled after him into the hangar bay. Then even he had to take a moment to be dazzled. The fighters were quite impressive, after all. Maybe it was the combination of the colors (sleek, slick black with accents of those obligatory badass neon Tron lines) and the shapes (spear-like, and sharp as blades at the tips) and the trappings (which included all manner of devices from weird weapons to a pair of slightly glowing solar sails), but everything about these planes bespoke awesome.

"I mean, look at those things!" America enthused. "Imagine about fifty of those babies swooping down at you out of the sky and tell me you wouldn't wet your pants! Well, I wouldn't, cuz I'm the hero, but if I _wasn't_ then boy would my underwear need a change! Hahaha!"

"How expectedly crass and juvenile of you, America," said Britain. He secretly coveted the planes as well, and as with most things he wanted and couldn't have, he felt the need to insult them. "I personally think they're hideous. So tacky and flashy, just like something out of one of your awful films. And they smell like armpits."

"Do they really?" asked America.

"Yes," said Britain.

"Well, whatever, man, cuz I'm not going to be in one! I'll be over in that room, chilling out like the cool cat that I am." America patted the side of one of the planes and then pulled his hand away quickly. Something clung to his palm and then snapped back onto the metal surface. "_Ew_. Weird and sticky? Is that the theme around here?"

Britain climbed up the ladder to the cockpit and gingerly touched the glass. "It would appear so," he said gloomily, wiping his fingers on his pants. "It's probably an arachnid thing."

"Anyway, I'll check out that control room now. Just give me a holler if you can't figure something out." America gave Britain a cheery thumbs up and raced away through the lines of planes.

"Why would I ever ask _you_ about anything?" Britain wondered aloud.

"Because I _invented_ planes!" America sang as he retreated. "_And_ spaceships!"

"Yes, all right. Point taken." Then Britain steeled himself, poked around a bit on the sticky surface to find the lock, and pulled the glass cover of the cockpit open. Peering inside, he saw an array of too-small buttons and levers squashed together with dials and things like that... to be expected, of course. But right in front of the seat was a sort of double-joystick steering wheel, and it didn't take a master pilot to figure out what that was for.

Britain stepped in carefully and seated himself on the chair. It wasn't so bad after all. Some bits were actually _straightforward..._

At the same time, America stared at his own row of switches, buttons, et alia, and thought pretty much the same thing. The one variation was, _swivel chair! Awesome!_ He spun in the chair a few times, then settled down and faced the control panel.

"Well, better get started, then," he said. "Hm. I wonder what this one does...? Oouuuu... pretty lights... oh, no, wait, that's bad-" America quickly flicked the switch back to its initial position. "Okay, I guess that's not the way to do this. Let's see..."

The Doctor had managed to pass on some instructions to them both, so that would be a place to start. America unhooked the wireless headset from its base and put it on, pulling the microphone down in front of mouth. On the base there would be a button to turn it on, and there was supposed to be a screen next to that, which would tell where the cloaked ships were...

With uncharacteristic adeptness, America began to work the controls. For once, he seemed to actually know what he was doing. However, the veneer of professionalism was torn slightly when he reached a hand into his pants pocket and extracted a squashed hamburger that was still in its little wax paper wrapping. Complacently humming his national anthem, America began to eat.

"I wonder if I can get a radio station on this..." he said through the burger, fiddling with the receiver by the headset stand. "Oh, yeah! Lite FM, baby! Supermarket music all the way!"

It should be common knowledge that, by dint of rapid Westernization and fast food chains, Americans are able to make themselves feel at home anywhere. Especially if it's _your _anywhere, and you want them to get out.

America lifted the headphones for a moment. "Just tell me when you think you're ready!" he called over his shoulder, and then snapped the headphones on again.

Behind America, one of the planes shuddered and its Tron lines glowed. Then the left wing bucked in the air as the engine below it fired and stalled. There was some smoke.

"What is this kind of music called?" America wondered. "It's so weird... this is what's popular in the future?" He shrugged and danced in place. "I like it anyway!"

There was more smoke. The plane stared to hop backwards, and then it made a long, funny noise.

America dug in his seemingly limitless pockets and found a juice packet, the kind with the little straw you stabbed into it. It took him one long, drawn-out slurp to empty the packet. He swallowed, sighed contentedly, and threw the plastic over his head.

"_... better be the right one this time..._" said a voice through the headphones, cutting through the music.

"Hey, Britain! You figured it out, huh?"

"_If you mean that I found the right button to press so we can talk, then yes_," said Britain crabbily."_Where the hell is that music coming from?_"

"Oh," said America, twisting the knob on the headset stand. "That's the radio, sorry. I'll turn it down."

"_And why does it sound like you're talking with your mouth full?_"

"Cush it _ish_," America explained. "Ish ma burger."

Britain sounded horrified. "_B- what? Where did you find it? Don't eat it!_"

"No, it was in my pocket," said America. "From before. Are you ready now?"

"_Uhh..._" Britain paused, and then coughed. "_Actually, I'm going to find another plane... I think I broke this one..._"

* * *

><p>In the hangar bay, Britain climbed out of the cockpit hastily, waving the smoke away from his face. At least he had the controls basically figured out. He cast about for a new fighter, straightening out his uniform stiffly and trying to un-remember the sound of America laughing at him before he'd yanked the headset off.<p>

"Like that little twat could have done any better," he grumbled, and set his boot on the first rung of the ladder on the hull of the next plane.

"Britain! Wait up! Wait!" A hand suddenly fell on his shoulder and he was pulled around to face an earnest America. "Hold up, man! There's something I gotta... something I gotta do..."

"Well, all right, but do it quickly," Britain said, exasperated. "We really haven't got much time to spare."

America looked chastised. "Sorry, I just... it's just that..." He fiddled with something around his neck. "You know, in the U.S. Air Force we have these things we do, things we keep... for good luck, on a mission." He lifted a thin chain over his head. "I just thought I should give you mine... my good luck charm..."

He held up the chain for Britain to see. "What's that?" asked Britain, touching the tiny charm. "Between the dog tags?"

"It's a boomerang," said America sheepishly. "People liked to name their planes that, or have them on board cuz... y'know... when you throw one, it always..."

"Comes back," Britain finished quietly. He felt very full and heartsore at that moment. "It always comes back to you."

America nodded and hung the chain around Britain's neck. "Yeah. You do good out there, okay?"

Britain touched the dog tags and the little boomerang. "It's _well_, you git," he said weakly. "Not do _good_. Do _well_."

"You stuffy old man," laughed America, punching Britain in the shoulder. "Now get out of my sight and go kick ass." He saluted.

Britain saluted back. "Yes, why don't I? It's that sort of day."

America's eyes met his. It was the kind of look that was trying to say something, and Britain wondered what message it could be. Then the moment passed, and he watched America run back to the control room.

Now that he had a little more experience from fooling around in the last plane, Britain felt more confident as he climbed into the cockpit. He'd figured out how to get into the flight suit, which clearly had been designed for nonhumans but hey, you had to make do, right? He remembered where the communications part was. He knew where the trigger was for the primary weapon. It was all good.

"_Hi, it's me_," said America, once Britain had opened the channel. "_Wazzup?_"

"I hope you know what to do next," Britain told him, "because I don't. How do I get out into space, to begin with?"

"_Don't worry, I got this. I'm going to seal off the hangar bay and depressurize it. Uh... here we go..._" There was an echoing slam.

"Well, it's a good thing I had the _door_ closed already, otherwise I'd be buggered," said Britain coldly. "Thanks for the bloody heads-up."

He heard America mutter a mild oath. "_Sorry, sorry, I forget stuff! My bad! It's hard to keep thinking ahead about everything. You're okay, right?_"

"I'm turning on the engine now..." Britain informed him loudly.

"_No, no! I've got to open a door first!_" He heard the sound of frantic keyboard mashing. "_Ah, there we go..._"

Britain leaned forward in his seat and stared through the window. The planes had all been oriented facing the wall, so at first all he could see was just that - wall. Then a long crack from floor to ceiling appeared, and he watched it widen and grow. Beyond it was pure black emptiness.

"_I guess now you can turn your engine on..._" said America. "_It's standard protocol to-_"

But Britain wasn't waiting to find out what it was standard protocol to do. "Oh, _fudge_ to your wretched protocol," he said with a wicked grin, and slammed the joystick forward.

"_What the hell are you-?_" America started to yelp.

The plane shot out of the belly of the ship and into the utter silence of the void. It made a swooping dive and then corkscrewed upwards.

"_Britain! You crazy son of a-_"

In response, Britain swung the plane into a barrel roll and then rocketed past the window. "Double-o-ninja!"

In the cockpit of the plane, he felt as light as air. Lighter, even, since he was technically in null g and would have been floating in his seat if not for the fasteners around his chest. When he sped up, there was a moment of crushing inertia before internal stabilizers kicked in. He was amazed by how advanced this technology was. Accelerating like this would normally cause his head to burst open like a balloon.

The most incredible part of it was the freedom of mobility. When flying in the air, it took skill to perform stunts, because you had to account for gravity and lift and wind. But in space, any direction could be up. He could fly upside down or right-side-up or however he pleased, because it was actually impossible to _be_ upside down in space.

"_What is wrong with you, dude?_" yelled America."_Are you trying to get killed?_"

"Spoilsport," Britain pouted. "Since when are _you_ this cautious?"

America practically exploded on the other end. "_Since when are _you_ not?_"

Britain smirked and stroked his thumb over the trigger. "Oh, I've got quite a wild side, America dear," he purred.

"_Freakin' hell... you just gave me goosebumps,_" America shuddered. "_Are you sure there aren't aliens messing around in your head again?_"

Britain chuckled. "Nothing of the sort... I'm simply enjoying myself. Ah... with a ship like this, I think I might take up piracy again."

"_Well, damn,_" said America. "_You're having fun and I'm sitting on my butt pushing buttons. That's no fair. Can I come out there too?_"

"All right, fine. I'll stop it and we'll get down to business," said Britain, though he was still feeling slightly giddy. It could have been the lack of gravity, which he knew was going to hit him hard with nausea once he stopped moving. Nevertheless, he pulled the plane to a slow halt and shifted his attention to the map on the dashboard and then touched his headset. "That's funny. Now that I'm not right next to the ship, I can't see it anymore. Not the window or the radar... or, er, whatever this is. Space-dar. So let me get this clear. You send me the coordinates of where the other ships are and I shoot at the cloaking devices?"

"_That's kinda the idea... I think..._" America sounded unsure. "_You have to aim for the engine and that'll incapacitate them._"

"You'd think they'd notice me doing that," Britain commented sarcastically. "Funny chaps, aren't they?"

"_Uhh... I think you're going to just have to do it really, really fast, so they don't notice. Man, I wish I could be out there too. It's like an awesome video game._"

Britain set his brain into strategy mode. "Right, how many ships are there? Including the one we're on?"

"_Okay, I'm looking right now..._"

He waited. "How many?" _I had better take out the ones farthest from the ship first, on the other side of the planet, and then work my way back... how fast can I make this plane go?_

"_I'm counting them..._" said America. "_Hold on..._"

_Or maybe I should decloak ours first and then..._ "So how many are there?" he asked impatiently.

"_Still counting..._"

Britain looked shocked. "Good god, man! How many _are _there?"

"_Ten!_" said America cheerfully. "_Got that right!_"

In the plane, Britain covered his eyes. "America... you're either the smartest idiot or the dumbest genius I've ever met."

America, as usual, took it as a compliment. "_Thanks a lot, yo!_" he said happily.

"Don't mention it," Britain sighed.

* * *

><p>It was harder than they thought it would be. America would use the computer and the coordinates the Doctor had given him to calculate the position of the ships. He ran into trouble once or twice with the more complicated commands, but he didn't feel nearly as lost as he should.<p>

"It's like it was programmed into me or somethin'," America giggled. "They took out a bit of my brain and put in command codes and things."

"_They must have removed the bit that tells you when to stop eating,_" Britain had shot back.

"Aw, Britain, I thought _you_ were that!" America had told him, and then cracked up so hard he'd spewed hamburger everywhere.

Once he had the precise orientation of the ship, and its coordinates, then America would press a button and send the information to the computer on Britain's fighter. And on the screen of the fighter would begin a process that America had decided to call 'rendering'.

"It's like in a video game, when the background has to load," he'd explained. "Cuz you haven't gotten to that part yet. That's called rendering."

"_If you say so,_" Britain had said.

And once they had that, a virtual image of a real invisible object on the screen loading like the background of a video game on Britain's window, then they could take out the ships one by one. The fighter would swoop in, fire once, and then speed away before anyone noticed.

In fact, it became almost routine. America stopped clenching up every time Britain neared another battlestar. He focused instead on finishing his burger, and the second packet of juice which he'd had but forgotten about. _And_ the six or seven candy bars he'd stuffed in his pockets. The control panel was soon littered with wrappers.

"This is the last one," America said cheerfully. "And it's right next to us! Funny, huh? Cuz you can't see them? If it wasn't invisible, I'd be able to see it from the window, probably. How are you doing?"

"_Pretty well, thank you. Start rendering it for me, all right?_" There was a popping sound, and America guessed Britain had just cracked his knuckles.

"Here goes..." America turned to the screen. "Oh, no, crap. I think this thing is glitching. I've got four dots instead of one..."

"_You what?_" Britain yelped. "_America, I don't think those are glitches!_"

"Well, what are they?" asked America expectantly.

"_They're other ships, you idiot Yankee! I've been spotted!_"

Instantly America shot bolt upright and cleared away the wrappers with one sweep of his arm. "What? That's balls, man! Get the heck out of there, now!"

He'd thought that it would be boring to simply sit and send coordinates out, but now he realized just how wrong he was. It wasn't exciting, though. He didn't get any adrenaline rush. Just stress and helpless terror.

"Watch out for the other battleship!" America yelled, pounding on the desk. "Britain! You're too close to-"

"_I know what I'm doing!_" Britain shouted back. "_There are too many! I have to split them up!_"

America watched the readout with growing apprehension. One plane was weaving around the enemy battlestar, with three other planes following it. "You can do it..." America whispered, forgetting that the audio connection was still open. "You can do it... you can do it... yes!" He jumped up and pumped a fist in the air.

Britain's fighter had just leaped out from behind the starboard engine and ambushed one of the pursuing planes. The red dot on the screen vanished, and America looked up through the window in time to see a plane zoom through a cloud of debris.

"_I told you I knew what I was doing,_" said Britain smugly. "_That's one down and two more to go..._"

"But be _careful!_" cried America. "Stop giving me freakin' aneurysms!"

"_I'm going around the port side now! You had better be rendering this ship!_"

America looked at his computer frantically. "It's all there! Just watch your six!"

* * *

><p>Britain clenched his teeth and swung the plane around again, racing along the side of the invisible battlestar. These aliens flew well, and they were a lot better at improvising than he would have expected. Well, that meant they weren't drones... were they some other kind of Proeliite?<p>

He saw a flash on the radar and banked hard, then pushed the nose of the fighter into a dive. It had been seconds too slow, though, and he felt a jolt shoot up his spine as the torpedo collided with the plane. Sparks jetted out of the control panel to his right.

"You're going to pay for that one, you spidery buggers!" Britain yelled. He pushed the accelerator to maximum and pulled up on the joystick, and the plane did a terrifying backflip. Then there, upside-down and racing towards him, was the fighter that had been tailing him. Britain pushed the plane forward and opened fire.

The two planes sped closer and closer, and then broke away at the last second. Britain whirled his plane about and gave chase. "Aye, that's right, ye bastard!" he yelled, firing wildly. "Now th' tables have turned on ye, haven't they?"

"_Oh my god, now you sound totally different!_" America shrieked. "_Who the hell are you and what have you done to Britain?_"

"Sorry, I think that was my inner Scotland," Britain said in his normal accent. "It's this thing, happens sometimes... That didn't scare you, did it?"

"_You sounded like a pirate or something weird like that!_"

"It's a thing! I said I was sorry... oh, damn, no! C'm back 'ere, ye filthy wee devil!"

"_Uh... it's getting kinda freaky if you know what I mean..._" America said, his voice going higher and higher as the sentence petered out.

"All right!" Britain snapped. "I'll try to control it! Is this better?"

"_Yeah, it's- yes! Nice shot!_"

Britain steered his fighter around the pieces of exploded plane. "Why, thank you, America," he said. "It rather was, wasn't it?" He pulled the fighter around. "Now there's just one left! Take that!" After a quick glance at the map, Britain urged the plane forward, picking up speed and watching the rendered image of the battlestar's hull closely. "I've got you now, you little-"

And suddenly there was a violent shock that threw him back in his seat, the harness cutting into his flesh. Britain shouted and felt his vision black out for an instant. More sparks erupted from the consoles and the plane was suddenly hurtling off course, spinning wildly. Red lights flashed and warning klaxons sounded.

"_Britain!_" America shrieked. "_Britain, what the hell just happened?_"

The nation winced. "Don't be so shrill! You nearly burst my eardrums!"

"_Are you okay? What was that?_ _Did you get hit?_"

"No! I mean, I'm all right, but I don't know what the hell just happened! I couldn't have been hit, because there wasn't anything... the other plane wasn't shooting at me!" He stared out the window. "It's not even here!"

"_Well, what the heck was it, then?_"

"Nothing!" Britain cried. "I ran into a patch of bloody empty space!"

"_What?_"

"I know! I don't get it either!" Without warning, the plane shook again and started to move. "Okay, now something _else_ hit me! And it's pushing me sideways! It's like it's invisible or..." Then Britain swore. "The _battleship!_" he realized. "It's bloody moving! It moved and I hit it! Render! Render the damn thing already or I'm flying blind!"

"_I'm trying to... it's like, crazy difficult..._ _hold on one-_"

And then the noise from the headset became chaos, and America screamed.

* * *

><p>The explosion knocked America off his seat and sent him flying over backwards. Agony slammed into the back of his head a moment after the floor did. He rolled over, clutching his skull, and ended up on hands and knees. "Augh! What the hell was that?"<p>

Then he looked up and saw the smoke rising from the control panel. "No! Oh, crappity crap! Britain? You there? Something just..." He realized something felt wrong, and his hands flew to the side of his head. The headset was missing.

America tried to stand, but a second detonation shook him to his knees again. He wobbled upright unsteadily and twisted his head back and forth, scanning the floor. The headset had skittered away to the other side of the room, and he dove for it, slapping the pads back onto his ears. Instantly he could hear Britain's panicked shouting.

"_... god damn it! America! America, say something! Please! Don't be..._"

"I'm okay!" America said, gasping for breath and crawling back to his chair. "It's all right... it's all right... I'm here, I'm okay... it's going to be fine..."

"_What do you mean, it's going to be fine?_" Britain yelled. "_What do you mean, it's all right? It's bloody well not all right! They're shooting at the ship! Those monsters aren't shooting at me anymore, they're shooting at you!_"

"Huh? But... aren't there aliens on this ship, too? Why would they try to kill their own people?"

"_I have no bloody idea! Maybe they all have instant transporters with them! Maybe they just don't care because they're all bloody EVIL!_ _I don't know!_"

"I'm trying to get the ship rendered so you can disable it, all right? Just hang in there!" America typed as fast as he could, which wasn't really that fast at all given his state of shock. His fingers were all shaking. Did he have a concussion? He felt sweat trickling down his neck, but when he wiped it away, his hand came back smeared with red. There was a ringing in his ear he couldn't shake off.

"_America..._"

"It's almost done! Just take them down and everything'll be fine!" The ship took another strike, and America's stomach lurched. He felt ill... but he couldn't be sick now, Britain needed his help...

"_America, it's no use!_"

"What the hell are you talking about? There! Now you can see the damn thing! Shoot it! Shoot the engine like the rest of them! Come on! Before it moves!"

"_I can't!_" Britain shouted. "_My weapons aren't working! They must have broken when I hit the ship! In fact, I don't know how long this plane is going to hold together!_"

"Just come back then! Get a new plane if you have to..." America clutched his stomach, thinking about the hamburgers he'd eaten and what a bad idea that had turned out to be.

The ship rattled all around him again, and the vibrations intensified the already formidable pain in his head.

"_Those sick wankers..._" Britain whispered, his voice choked with anger and tears. "_No! Don't bloody shoot at the ship! Shoot at me, damn it! I'm the one flying around out here!_ _Not them! Not America! Me! Damn you all!_"

Another shot. Another explosion. America closed his eyes, and saw firelight through his eyelids. "They're going to kill all of us..." he moaned. "They're going to kill us all and then kill Earth and _I can't do a damn thing about it!_"

Flames flickered in the corner of the room and began to climb the walls.

"_Yes, you can,_" said Britain suddenly. His voice cracked. "_One thing. You can render the ship for me, America, and then I'm going to save your life and all the other nations' lives and maybe the whole bloody Earth as well. Do it._"

"But... I thought you didn't have any weapons..." America began to type commands into the computer, hoping that it was still functional after all this.

Britain didn't answer at first. "_I'm... I'm going in,_" he finally said.

"What do you mean?" America's fingers hovered over the keys uncertainly. There was something very wrong about Britain's voice. It sounded almost like he was sobbing, and trying to keep it quiet so America wouldn't know.

"_I mean I'm going in,_" Britain repeated. "_That's all. Is the ship rendered?_"

"Yes, but... 'going in'?_ '_That's all'? What's that supposed to-?"

On the screen, the tiny dot that marked Britain began to move. "_It means I'm not coming out,_ _America._"

"Stop being cryptic, you idiot! You're scaring me!"

Now it really did sound like he was crying. "_How clear do I have to make it! I don't have any weapons! All I've got is flight control! I'm going to go in there and blow up their blasted engine and then... that's it! Your bloody boomerang isn't going to come back, America!_"

"_What?_" America screamed."What are you saying?"

From the sound of it, Britain had pounded his fist on his useless dashboard. "_I'm saying _goodbye!"

The words rang in America's head, and his throat squeezed shut. "Stop it," he breathed. "Stop it right now. Don't do this."

"_I can't. Terribly sorry, but it's either me or you. And... I won't let it be you._"

"No!" America cried. "NO!"

"_I'm sorry. I really am. I don't want me to die either._"

Tears clogged the young nation's throat and eyes, and began to roll down his cheeks. "How could you do this to me?" he wept. "I hate you!"

"_America... don't argue with this. Please... I don't want that to be the last thing we say to each other._"

"Neither do I!" America shouted. "That's what I'm trying to tell you!"

"_If you're a real hero... like you say you are..._" Britain's voice was very quiet. "_... then you'd understand..._"

America grew still and stared out the window, his face a blank mask. He was just able to make out a tiny dot moving across an invisible surface, picking up speed. "We could have done things together," he said numbly. "Human things, you know?"

"_What kinds of things?_" asked Britain wistfully.

"I dunno... could have talked. Hung out... had pillow fights... We could have celebrated Christmas togther... shared an umbrella when it rains... All kinds of things."

"_Yes. I suppose we could have._"

"Cuz... I don't know why, I just thought we were... I thought we could be-"

"_Take off the headset_," said Britain suddenly.

America jolted. "What?"

"_I said take off the headset, damn it! I don't want you to hear this!_"

Now he started to cry again. "No," said America, biting his quivering lip. "I'm not leaving you alone."

This seemed to unhinge Britain and push him right over the edge of sanity. "_Oh, god... oh god... I don't want to die! I want to live and share a bloody umbrella with you when it rains, America! I want to have a goddamn pillow fight with you even though I've never done anything so bloody stupid in my whole life!_"

"Britain... I just want to say something..."

"_I don't want to... to sacrifice myself bravely! I don't want to do it!_"

"I just wanted to say that..." America swallowed. He wanted to cover his ears, to rip the headset off and curl up on the floor and cry until he couldn't breathe. But he couldn't. Not yet.

On the other end, Britain drew in his last breath and held it. "_Y-yes?_"

"I had a hero... once..."

And the breath came out in ragged huffs, but it was something close to a relieved sigh. "_Ahhh..._"

Then came a shredding and a crashing and then the most horrible noise America had ever heard in his entire life:

Utter silence.

**AN: *Whimpers* I'm sorry... (goes to cry in corner)**


	21. Grief

**A/N: Well, I did it again. I spent a whole month NOT WRITING and then finally banged this out when the shame was too much. But at least I had an excuse. I was doing science! That's right, science. I got a position at a lab and I'm spending my summer doing DNA analysis and growing yeast on gel plates and all that jazz. It's not most people's dream vacation, but I think I like it. **

America had a bit of blood trailing down his cheek, mixing in with the tear streaks and sweat. His eyes were deadened, watching the others with hopeless denial, and his expression numb.

"Now we know what that shaking was, aru..." said China grimly, his words cutting through the grief-stricken silence. He looked at his feet. "I never would have guessed old Opium had it in him."

"Don't say that," said America thickly, refusing to look at them. "He was a hero."

Japan bowed his head. "_Hai. _He saved all our lives." The reticent nation looked more blank and composed than usual, except that every inch of him was trembling.

Hanging back behind the rest, Italy caught scent of the grief in the air and started to whimper noisily. Germany flinched at the sound, and half-turned, but then he halted himself and the faint flicker of distress in his eyes vanished.

Suddenly everyone started talking at once. "My country is _dead?_" Lolito burst out in disbelief. "But what... how...? It can't be!"

France was practically in hysterics. "Poor, poor _Angleterre_... how could zis happen to him? He did not deserve such a cruel fate..."

"But what are we supposed to _do?_" Italy was moaning. "We're all going to die anyway without him... I thought we _needed_ him..."

"Everybody be qviet und listen!" Germany said angrily. "Ve can't allow anyzhing, no matter how tragic, to interfere vith our task! Ve have to be calm und collected und rational about zis-"

America's eyes narrowed and he jumped to his feet. "Oh, yeah, 'cuz that's _totally_ your style when things go wrong for _you_, Germany, be calm and rational..."

"Don't fight..." Italy whispered, but no one heard him.

"... and you're sure it isn't just yelling at everything until you get your way or someone declares war on your ass?" America spat. "'Cuz you know what? I'm through with that! I'm not one of those EU countries you get to bully-"

China put his hands on his hips. "America, you don't really mean that. I know you're just grieving but you have to calm down, aru..."

"I don't want to calm down!" America shouted, stamping his boots on the floor like a petulant overgrown child. "I want my friend back! _I want Britain!_" He whirled around and punched the wall (which dented heavily under the blow), then sank to his knees, curling his body into a ball. "I want Britain..." he wept. "I want him to be alive again..."

Even Germany with his wounded pride fell silent. After a moment, France put his hand on America's shoulder and knelt down. "I know. I want zat too."

America lifted his head from his knees. "You do?" he asked in a tiny voice.

Solemnly, France nodded. "_Oui_. Of course I do." Then he leaned over and whispered something in America's ear.

Whatever it was France had said pushed America to tears once more. "So do I," America wailed. "And the worst part is... I didn't realize until now." The two nations clung to each other and wept, sharing in some sadness that none of the others could quite understand.

Russia sighed. "Everybody is doing the crying right now."

"Well, they would be!" said China, a bit affronted. "We have just lost one of our own!"

The northern nation looked like he was about to say something, but he paused when a thought seemed to occur to America, who shouldered France off and stood. The young nation looked a lot less sad in that moment and a lot more frightening. "You!" he said, pointing. "You... you can save him, can't you?"

The Doctor's eyes were red-rimmed and full of guilt. "America..." he breathed sadly. "I know how awful this must be..."

"No! No, don't give me that! Everyone's trying to comfort me but you know what? It doesn't have to be like this! You can change it! You've got a time machine! You can go back and warn him! He wouldn't have had to do what he did if his weapons hadn't been gone and he wouldn't have lost his weapons if he'd known the ship was moving..."

"I can't do that. America, I'm so sorry, but it doesn't work like that..."

But America wouldn't listen to any shape or species of negation. He ran forward and grabbed the Doctor's shirt, yanking him off his feet. The Doctor didn't react, but simply gazed down at America with sharp, soulful eyes. "You listen to me, buster!" said America harshly. "I don't give a damn about what it works like! You've got a time machine! What else is it good for? You gotta go back and save him!"

"You don't understand, America," the Doctor said slowly, aware that every other nation was watching this all intently. "Time doesn't bend to my will. You can't change what's fixed in history..."

"I _am_ history!" America shouted. "I'm the United States of America and I do what I want! So the laws of time can suck it!"

The Doctor just shook his head. There was a very dark look in his eyes, and even America was unnerved for a moment, despite his desperation. But then the madness of sorrow took hold of him again and he threw the Doctor towards the wall. "You fake!" he shouted advancing on the Time Lord. "You useless bag of crap! You're gonna do what I say!"

"America!" cried Japan, shocked. "Don't be so hasty! This man is not someone you would want as an enemy!"

"Very true," the Doctor interjected. "Just so you know."

"Oh, screw it," said America harshly. "I never lose."

"Except in Vietnam," China reminded him automatically, and then he scooted behind Russia for protection.

America hissed with rage. "I'll get you for that... but not right now." And he turned back to the Doctor, who raised an eyebrow. "Now, are you going to save your _favorite country's life_ all by yourself or am I, the hero, going to have to _make you?_"

"Stop! Stop acting so childish!" Lolito marched between the Doctor and America and hefted her gun, cocking it with a harsh clack and pointing it straight at the nation's skull. "You overgrown ex-colony, if you take one more step, I'm going to blow your head off!"

Audacity had done its work. America skidded to a stop and stared at the woman like she had gone mad, which she might have. Then he glared. "Get outta my way, lady," he said dangerously.

"No! You listen to yourself! You know perfectly well why you're so angry, so don't you dare come any closer!"

"I'm angry because this stupid punk won't help me save my friend's life!"

Lolito could have banged her head against the nearest wall out of frustration. "You're getting your emotions messed with again! It's the bloody aliens!"

"No, just _that_ one; that alien!" He started to step closer.

Lolito tightened her grip on the handle.

"Oh, for Time's sake, do we have to have all this nonsense?" the Doctor complained. "_He_ threatens _me_, _she_ threatens _him_, _he_ threatens _her_... so who's threatening who next? Do I come into it at all or should I just... take a nap over here?"

"But... 'ey, I zhought you were out of bullets," said France unwisely. "Oh. Whoops."

"That's... well, all right, that's true," Lolito admitted, as America began advancing again. "The gun _was_ empty..." Then she reached in her boot and held up a clip, which she jammed into the gun. "But I always I carry extras."

"Look, I appreciate this whole..." the Doctor gestured, "er, gesture, but can we just put down the gun and talk like reasonable people?"

"_He's_ not being reasonable, sir, so I don't see why I should be!" Lolito inched backwards. America's expression was cold steel, and there was an unfocused look in his eyes. Lolito flicked her eyes to the other nations frantically. "Any of you chaps fancy helping?"

"Helping _him_?" asked Germany coldly, pointing at the Doctor. "Vhy should ve? Vhat do ve owe him?"

"Your existence?" Lolito suggested. "Oh, no, wait... was that not a good idea to bring that up..."

None of the nations moved as America kept coming closer, but France and Italy looked very worried. America's expression had almost become deranged.

"How about you give me that gun...?" said the nation, cracking his knuckles unpleasantly. "Second amendment rights, huh?"

"... bollocks," said Lolito, and she grabbed the Doctor's wrist. "Come along, sir, this is going to get ugly."

The Doctor nodded and jumped up. "Right-o. Tactical retreat it is?"

"Absolutely." Together they scrambled for the bay doors, with Lolito just managing to keep the gun out of America's hands as the nation lunged for it. The sonic screwdriver whined and then the doors began to close.

"Come back here!" America screamed. "I'm not finished with you!" He started to give chase but something rammed into his thighs and bore him to the ground. "What the hell?" he spluttered. "_Italy? _Get off me! Now!"

The nation now clinging to America's legs squawked, "Veh, you have to listen to me! They're playing around in your mind just like they did before! I can hel-" He cut off with a gasp as America managed to land a kick in his stomach. "Ow..." Italy coughed. "Ribs. That was mean-"

"Let me go!" America shouted, as tears started to flow down his cheeks again in desperation. "Italy, I don't want to hurt you! But I will!"

"Go ahead, then!" Italy wailed. "I'm not letting you hurt the Doctor!"

America twisted on the floor and raised a fist to strike Italy down, but suddenly a shadow fell over him and something grabbed his wrist, slamming his arm back down to the floor.

"_Don't. You. Dare. Touch. Italy,_" Germany growled, forcing America's arm back. He had to use both hands and one knee to keep the fist from rising again, but eventually he had America pinned. But it wasn't going to last much longer than a few seconds. With his superpower strength, America could break Germany's arm clean off if he kept struggling.

France looked back and forth and then yelled, "Zhere's only one zhing to do! Everyone dogpile America! Now!"

And they did.

After a few seconds of panicked struggle, the pile of nations grew still. A few of them shifted around to find a more comfortable position. Then there was a little spurt of conversation from the lump.

"Who stepped on _mein_ hand?" grumped a voice.

"Veh... could have been me... so that's _you_ who's all squashed up against me?"

The first voice paused. "Oh. Vell, zat's okay, zen."

Someone giggled. "Heeheehee... this is kind of fun, _da?_"

"No, aru! No, it isn't!"

"Respectfully, I must agree with _onii-san_," concurred a quiet voice from near the very bottom of the heap. "This is most uncomfortable."

A gasp. "Did you just call me your big brother? You're so cute, aru!" One of the figures squirmed and managed to get a tight grip on another. "Japan! Little brother!"

"_Mein gott!_ Is zis really zer time? Und whoever you are, stop elbowing my stomach!"

"Ohonhonhon... honhonhon..."

"France! Be qviet, vill you? You're not supposed to be _enjoying_ zis!"

And then, finally, the last voice piped up, first coughing, and then in a pitiful whine saying, "Jeez, you guys... ow... was that really necessary?"

"He eez not squashed flat!" France cried triumphantly. "_Très bien!_ Ze plan has worked! America, _mon cher_, how are you feeling?"

America groaned. "Uhh... like a bunch of big fat countries jumped on top of me and squashed me flat... not that it hurt, because I'm _obviously_ stronger than that, but _still_..."

"Everyone off the nation, aru!" ordered China, pushing upwards. "Off, off, off! Shoo!" One by one the nations peeled off the stack, starting from the large top layer of Russia. There was much straightening and dusting of uniforms as the nations got to their feet. Only America stayed sitting on the ground.

Italy and Germany rolled away in a not-so-unwilling tangle (at least not on Italy's part). "Germany saved me!" he was saying, happily nuzzling into the other nation's lap. "Veh, didn't you, Germany? You saved me from getting whomped on the head!" He lifted his arms to hug the other.

Germany caught his wrists. "Stop zat," he said firmly. "Don't do it."

"Don't do... what... Germany?" Italy looked hurt, and, dejected, he tried to pull away, but Germany didn't let go.

"Don't act zer fool," he said seriously. "I know you aren't vone." He pulled Italy to his feet and patted imaginary dust off the startled nation's shoulders. "Zat vas... very brave, vhat you did zhere."

"Was it really?" asked Italy shyly. "Veh. Wow."

Japan caught sight of this out of the corner of his eyes and sighed. As if those two could stay angry at each other for long.

America was being helped to his unsteady feet by France and China, both of whom were scolding him. Of the two, France was trying to be a little more considerate.

"Do not worry too much over eet, America..." he was saying. "Eet could have happened to any one of us. Eet can be hard to tell apart what eez natural grief and what eez constructed by ze aliens..."

"You must be more cautious when your emotions are running high," China said bluntly. "We can't afford to watch over you like you were some kind of invalid. Just regulate yourself for once in your life, aru!"

"_Self-regulate?_" America squawked. "But that's _socialism!_ Gross! I need my... my frickin' _freedom_, man!"

The People's Republic of China gave America a very disgruntled look.

"Well, it _is!_" whined America. "I don't like that commy crap!"

"Zat 'commy crap', as you so incorrectly labelled eet, eez just being a responsible adult," said France. He sighed; his melancholy over Britain's death was returning. "Please do not be so difficult in such a delicate situation."

America slumped down again. "Sorry," he said, in a meek voice. "I really screwed up, didn't I? I always... screw everything up..." And to the other nations' embarrassment, the tears started flowing again.

"Veh, he's going through the stages of grief pretty quickly, isn't he?" whispered Italy.

Japan shushed him. "Don't be insensitive."

Of all nations, Russia was the one who pushed his way out of the clump and put an arm around America's shoulders. "There, there, comrade," he said kindly. "Don't be crying so much. It could be a lot worse, couldn't it?"

America looked at Russia with accusing, puffy eyes. "How could it be worse than this, you nut?" he said stickily. "My... f-friend is dead..."

Japan, France, and China, the genre-savvy ones of the bunch, all looked around hastily in case things were indeed about to get worse. "Did he _really_ have to say that, aru?" China hissed.

Russia nodded. "_Da_, but it is not so irreparable. We may have lost Britain, but we can always grow a new one, can't we?"

America froze. "The hell was that you said?"

"There's no need to be so rude," said Russia, stepping back and crossing his arms. There was a chilly smile on his face that was almost up to par with the ones he used to give. "This should be the good happy news for you."

"_Grow a new one?_ What the fudge is that supposed to mean?"

It dawned on the other nations that America was the only one left of them who didn't know the truth.

"Oh... er... how do ve explain..." Germany began uncomfortably. He rubbed the back of his ear and cleared his throat. "It's-"

"Allow me," interrupted France, waving a hand to silence him. "I believe zis will require a delicate social touch, which, I am afraid to say..." he looked Germany up and down critically. "... you lack."

"Vhat are you _tryingk_ to _imply_, Herr France?" growled Germany, highly offended.

"What eez wiz zis _'Air France?_" the nation retorted shrilly. "Why do you always have to call me zat when you're trying to be a-"

"_Enough,_" said Japan, in a level voice that cut through the bickering like a scythe through grass. "I will tell him." He stepped up to America and bowed. "Would you please walk with me?"

"Just freakin' tell me already!" America whined. "Cut the crap, you guys! What the heck was Russia talking about?"

"I will explain," Japan repeated. "Walk with me."

As everyone marveled at Japan's sudden assertiveness, the slim Asian nation took America by the crook of his arm and steered him away from the others through the rows of empty, dark birthing pods. The others followed at a safe distance, wondering just how America was going to take this.

China recognized where they were now. Weren't those pods over there the ones that he had set up, under the Doctor's instructions? Canada, Poland, Greece... but they weren't for transporting, he now knew, but for growing. Because Canada, Poland, Greece; those people didn't exist. They were just false memories implanted in his mind. And the pods would have brought those memories to life.

Up ahead, America had stopped in his tracks. The anvil must have been dropped, or perhaps it had been dropped long before and he had only understood it just now. China couldn't help but hope that America took it very badly, with much hysteria, because it would be shameful if America's reaction ended up as more mature than China's own had been.

But America didn't even stay to hear the rest of what Japan had said. He wheeled right around, marched up to Russia. and prodded him on the chest.

"So you wanna grow another one o-of my Britain, huh?" he said fiercely, his voice stumbling a little as he tried to contain his emotions. "That's y-your idea? Just... start everything over? Copy and paste? S-system r-restore?"

"Well... _da_." Russia spread his hands. "In essentials, that is correct."

"That's _sick_," spat America, his breath catching in his throat. "That is just _sick_."

It was a testament to Russia's newfound self-control that he didn't even show a flicker of anger. Instead he drew back, a wounded look in his violet eyes. "I only mean to... to help..."

America put his hand against the glass of one of the dark pods. In a hoarse voice he whispered, "So, do you think we could do it?"

"Sorry?" asked Russia bemusedly. "What was that?"

"I said..." America sighed, leaning his head against his fist. "D'you think we could do it? Grow another... I mean, without that tardy-whatsit..."

"TARDIS," said France after deciphering what the other nation was trying to say. He cast his head down glumly. "Britain," he added forlornly, "would have been ze one to say zat... he would have said, 'eet's called a TARDIS, you bloody geet'... zat eez, eef he had been here..."

Italy passed one of his white flags to France, who blew his nose with it loudly.

America took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, well... maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to chase that stupid space nerd away, huh?"

"You mean zer Doctor?" asked Germany stiffly. "I zhink personally zat you did us a favor in getting rid of him."

"Okay, so why'd you stop me from catching him, then?" America challenged.

"To protect me," said Italy smugly. "Of course."

"Of course..." Germany agreed, uncertain. Wait... _smugly? _"You planned zat all along, didn't you?" he said to Italy suspiciously. "You _knew_ I vould save you! Zat's vhy you did it in zer first place! To get me to help!"

"_Si, grazie_," said Italy proudly, delivering a sweeping salute (with the wrong hand, as usual). "Not so bad with the strategy, eh, Captain?"

Germany's eyes were sparkling and starstruck, and he seemed to be oddly short of breath. "_Mein_ cunning little general," he breathed, cupping Italy's cheek in one hand. The two had locked eyes and were gazing at each other like the rest of the world had conveniently stopped existing.

Japan covered his face and shuffled away, murmuring to himself, "Oh my goodness..."

"Normally I would be more of the mad and less of the happy if someone did that to me but... okay," Russia shrugged. "I am not everyone."

"Well, excuse me while I _puke_," America huffed.

The word 'hypocrite' was on the tip of France's tongue but he bit it back, knowing it would come in poor taste now. And he was too busy enjoying the show.

China looked decidedly awkward about these new developments. "You'd think this sort of thing would come with a warning label," he complained. "I would probably censor you two right now if it was possible, aru."

Germany finally seemed to notice all the attention he was getting. "Vhat are you all looking at?" he demanded guiltily. "It's... it's nozzing to do viz any of you." He folded his arms over his chest crossly and glared at them. "So just... go about your business. Don't mind us."

"Oh, _non, _we don't," said France eagerly. "We're very open-minded. Please, continue."

"Yeah, whatever," muttered America, who had become mysteriously angry all of a sudden. "Rub it in." He kicked the base of one of the birthing pods.

And then a loud hum filled the air. The lights in the birthing pod flickered on and the mist inside started to swirl.

"Whoa! What the hell just happened there?" America squared up, ready to fight.

"What did you _do_, aru?" China demanded in horror. "Was that _you?_"

"No way, man!" America yelled. "Not this time!"

Italy jumped back with a yelp, flinging his hands over his eyes. The pod just next to him had come blazing to life. "Veh! What's_ happening?_"

The lights of the pods were coming on one by one, up and down the room. The screens next to each one glowed with symbols racing along at uncommon speed. Circles split with white wedges that grew until they ate up the original shape and closed over the last shred of color. Bars flashed through progress and timers spun down to zero.

"It's like they're all on express or... or something!" America's head looked very loose on his neck as he whipped it back and forth, trying to gauge how many pods had suddenly self-activated.

Then the door of that very first pod unlatched itself and swung open. A huge shape stepped through the mist.

It _could_ get worse, after all. The first of the drones had awakened.

**A/N: Lolito and the Doctor are going to be the focus of the next chapter. Wow... I never thought my OC would become so involved in the story. Really, I planned her just to come in at the end. But it's turned out well so far like this, so _allons-y!_**


End file.
